


In Cold Blood

by NamelessDragon



Series: Of Two Minds [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers Compound, Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Drug Use, Dysfunctional Relationships, Gen, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Implied/Referenced Medical Experimentation, Implied/Referenced Psychological Manipulation, Implied/Referenced Torture, Injury, Jotunn Bucky, Medical Procedures, Memory Loss, Past Brainwashing, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Thor (Marvel), Recovery, Self-Hatred, Telepathy, Uneasy Allies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-13 00:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 55,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21485506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelessDragon/pseuds/NamelessDragon
Summary: Two ex-HYDRA experiments begin the uncertain process of coming in from the cold.It'd be a lot easier if it wasn't to a group of mortal enemies.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Loki, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, Loki & Thor (Marvel)
Series: Of Two Minds [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1480727
Comments: 158
Kudos: 332





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An unintended sequel! I really wanted to try out that ol' "trauma victims struggling to connect with well-meaning Avengers team with a heaping of mistrust (and even some hatred) on both sides."
> 
> I have three chapters of this written already, and I'm not expecting it to be very much longer than five chapters. (Expectation vs reality could be different, of course.) Second chapter will be up the 27th, but then after that updates will slow.

Pinned against the wall, nearly lifted from his feet by the hand gripping the front of his armor, Loki was forced to consider the fact that invading his once-brother’s room in the middle of the night had possibly not been the most ideal of tactics. 

Thor was bare to the waist and still half-confused from being torn from his slumber, but he engaged ruthlessly with his perceived threat. The edge of his hammer dug in sharply beneath Loki’s ribs. “You chose the wrong quarters to invade.”

Loki could not take a full breath against the metal. The prospect of the pain to come coiled itself in a shooting acridness in his lower belly. 

Thor’s strength was so much greater than any enemy Loki had faced since his escape from HYDRA. He wondered what madness would have driven him to think that he could have ever won in battle against such an opponent. 

And now he was throwing himself into the same lion’s den in hopes that he could tempt mercy and acceptance. He felt a tickle at his lungs, the urge to smile and laugh whispering through the growing terror. 

The humor faded quickly, blackened into another desperate gasp. He kept still beneath the raging pressure and did not attempt to push back against his once-brother’s strength. Even as his stomach continued to struggle to claw its way up his throat, he needed to know which way the coin would fall. He needed to know if the Avengers were still his enemies. 

If, after everything, Thor would still choose to strike him down.

Bucky had been right. That the two of them together were formidable did not entirely negate their most glaring vulnerabilities. Director Fury’s locating their whereabouts had opened up the possibility of their discovery from less than friendly sources.

The Avengers would have found them out eventually. And Loki had been beaten before. The memory of it was a fog, but much of the pain that came after shone clear.

He swallowed back his nausea and kept his stance placating, his hands raised with palms out. 

_This is only temporary,_ he told himself. _If you are to continue to survive, if you are to continue to hold fast to your freedom in the grander scheme, this measure is required for the defense of your life._

Thor’s face softened in shock as he blinked the last of the sleep from his eyes. Realization overtook instinct. The bite of the hammer’s edge loosened. “Loki?”

Loki’s voice came steadier than he felt. “Brother.”

Outside, the skies darkened further. Rain began to fall, soft at first, but within seconds it swelled into a roaring cascade.

Thor’s voice flooded with delight. “It’s really you. I knew it. I _knew it_.” A palm came to clasp the side of Loki’s neck, Thor’s joy unfaltering even in the face of the answering violent flinch. “Oh, _yes._ I knew those bastards couldn’t beat you.”

“Those bastards,” Loki repeated, voice flat. He furrowed his brow as the heat of his once-brother’s palm seeped into his skin. “But you gave me to them.” 

Thor’s face fell. His fingers tightened over the side of Loki’s neck. 

The touch was too familiar. Loki felt the echoes of the manipulative caress of Pierce’s hand, warm and kind and promising rest in the midst of horrific pain. Expert cultivation of his cooperation and obedience.

_This is only temporary._

But where Pierce had projected calm and smugness, Thor was so overwrought that every word was accompanied by a tense shake that jarred Loki’s body. “No, don’t you remember? I fought to take you home.”

“To answer for my crimes,” Loki said, pulling the thread of words from somewhere deep. He kept himself carefully lax against the continuing touch. “And...have I answered?”

He knew he’d been punished. He knew that he had deserved said punishment. But the memory of most thoughts and emotions that had driven the crime prior to it were gone. 

Fury had said that Thor blamed himself for Loki’s cruel captivity. That did not necessarily mean that Loki was absolved. There could be another cell awaiting him here, if a kinder one.

He hoped it would be kinder. Now that he had come, he realized just how tired he was of running. He craved the rest between shocks.

There was movement again, Thor’s other hand gripping into his shoulder to angle him as he wanted, to confront him head on. Loki could not help it, his muscles seized up in fear, his eyes going wide in fruitless attempt to better see the threat. Thor’s face could have held anger, or worry, or something else. Though he was being held close, the details were lost in Loki’s poor sight.

He still held the scepter, but in that moment he felt that he had never been more helpless. 

“What happened?” Thor rumbled. “Your eyes...” He brought his face so close that Loki could make out the storm blue of his once-brother’s irises. ”You’re looking at me as if I am a stranger. Is this yet more of HYDRA’s doing?”

Loki could not help tilting his head back, keeping as much distance as he was allowed in the face of that dark rage. “They attempted to hollow me out.” He remembered the glint of scalpels beneath glaring lights, the whirring of bone saws, and the jagged fury of lightning. His lips stretched into a brittle and humorless smile as he was filled with a vague feeling of mourning for the lost memories of a past beyond that. “I think they succeeded.”

Thor bared his teeth and hissed out a hot breath. Thunder violently rattled the windows.

Loki clung tighter the scepter with a gasp, quaking. _Drop to the floor,_ he thought. _Now, while you can still angle yourself to control entry points for the current_. 

Except that had never really worked. It was the thought of a creature in agony desperate for salve, babbling false strategies to itself when no other possible schemes remained. And beneath that, already broken. Already resigned that pain was inevitable, a neverending fact of life.

When he could again think beyond his terror he realized his link with Bucky had washed open in his distraction. The other’s confusion and tension mingled with his own. He noted with some relief that Bucky believed he was not in immediate danger from Captain America. 

Loki strained through his fear to block up the mental connection once more. He had yet to see any lightning, he told himself. Indoor attacks of that type would be difficult. Thor’s strength was greatest when beneath the open sky.

Loki began to cautiously believe he could avoid the worst of possible agonies if he kept himself pliant.

“I’ll kill them all for what they have done to you,” Thor growled. “Every last lowly HYDRA scum.”

“You’ll find no argument from me,” Loki said. 

He greatly desired the freedom to move, to fidget, but Thor’s bulk was still crowding him against the wall. As if he feared Loki would disappear the instant he released him.

Loki chewed the inside of his cheek as he considered what words would be best to release some of Thor’s tension. “I come seeking amends,” he said. “I know I have done terrible things. Betrayed your trust. Targeted you and those you care for. I do not expect you to believe me, but that is not who I am anymore.”

Of that, at least, he was fairly certain. He had been caught, and he had learned. _Please,_ he thought, with another spear of dread. _Please believe me._

There was a hesitation in Thor, but only for a moment. He moved his hand to the back of Loki’s neck, his fingers threading gently into his hair.

“I swear to you, brother,” Thor said. “If you are here, if it is true that you have finally put aside your intentions to destroy and conquer...I can promise you, no one will lay hands on you ever again.”

Evidently, that had been the right thing to say. Loki exhaled shakily, his eyes burning. 

Perhaps he could manage this after all. 

“That is yet another reason why I came,” he said, blinking rapidly against the moisture that threatened to obstruct his already poor vision. “I think someone out there very much intends to.”

\----------

Bucky had said line of contact. _Line_ of contact. 

That meant messages, maybe coded. Gradual testing of the level of hostility. A meeting on neutral ground once they were sure it wasn’t a trap.

What it hadn’t meant was that they dump themselves in enemy territory in the middle of the night, without so much as a plan for the compound layout, weapons systems, or other defenses.

Like the supersoldier currently standing across the room from him. Captain America, in his pajamas, flicking the switch to the lamp on his nightstand and staring in caution at the blue-skinned intruder in his bedroom. 

The guy Bucky had beaten to a pulp the last time they met. Because Steve had let him.

Thunder rumbled outside, rain pouring thick down the glass and distorting the view through the windows. Bucky clocked some warehouses as he tried to gauge the distance to the facility perimeter. There was too much open ground to make escape on foot a likelihood.

The room was too hot, but that was the story of Bucky’s life lately. 

And Loki was here, but he was trying to shut him out. Bucky could still feel the impressions of terror bleeding in. There was some pain, but it was mild. Nothing Loki couldn’t handle.

Bucky stayed where he was. If Thor had been about to react with any real violence, they’d know by now.

And, thanks to Loki, he had his own problems to worry about.

“Buck? Is that you?” Steve stood haloed by the light of the bedside lamp. His eyes darted from the exposed silver of Bucky’s metal arm to his face. “It is you. God, what happened? I’ve been looking for you for over a year.” Steve took an eager step forward.

Bucky quickly lurched back, clothes crunching as the stress-induced ice in the fibers broke apart. Steve stopped approaching, hands carefully still at his sides. No sudden movements. Like Bucky was a cowering dog he was trying not to spook, instead of a rabid one he should avoid.

“Keep your fucking distance.” The words came out sharper than intended, or maybe not sharp enough. The last time they’d fought he hadn’t been this far changed. Since then, the only living thing he’d come into skin on skin contact with that had managed to survive was Loki. “It’s not safe to touch me.”

The look of relief and open friendship on Steve’s face faded as his caution grew. “You’re in my room. That means you know me.”

They stood facing each other, each too wary to make a move. 

“I know you’re Steve,” Bucky eventually said, unable to help sending intermittent gazes to possible exit points. “I think I know who you were. I’m not so sure about now.”

“I’m the same person,” Steve said, and he looked like he was trying to smile but it came off a little too strained. “I didn’t even get bigger this time. Nothing’s changed.”

Bucky couldn’t help the twitch. “So it’s just me, then,” he muttered.

There was some kind of familiarity there, a longing that wanted to open up. Bucky tamped down on the part of himself that would jump on that extension of friendship. He needed to keep a level head, and not get tangled in daydreams and fantasies. He knew what he was.

Steve’s smile faltered, his stance widening. He glanced out the window like he was starting to expect an attack. “Why come now?”

Because some asshole had tossed him through a space portal, wasn’t it obvious?

That didn’t change the fact that Bucky had spent some long nights between HYDRA base raids and double checks of the security of their safehouses sorting through his knotted memories of Steve like they were a ball of tangled string. He’d touch a spot and not know what part it belonged to, or where it started or ended. Sometimes writing his thoughts down helped. Sometimes he wasn’t sure if they were just dreams, or things his mind had made up while in HYDRA’s possession. The fantasies of someone only ever meant to be a blank slate. A weapon.

_Stop it,_ he told himself. _This isn’t some dramatic fairytale. Your happy ending is staying alive, and that’s only going to happen if you keep sharp._

“Bucky,” Steve was saying, growing more unsettled the longer the silence stretched. “Are you safe? 

“I don’t know,” Bucky answered, voice low with distraction. “There’s...something coming.”

Thunder crashed outside, monstrous and loud. The windows rattled in its wake.

Bucky’s mind was suddenly vividly flooded with thoughts of terror, lightning, and pain. 

Loki.

Bucky struggled not to flinch, the urge to run nearly sending him through the window. _What the fuck did you think was going to happen if you dragged us here like this?_

Before he could really worry, the walls between their minds forcibly slammed back up. 

Loki was keeping his cool. As much as he could. Thor hadn’t lost it completely just yet.

Steve hadn’t so much as twitched from the thunder. From the look on his face, Bucky hadn’t been too obvious with giving away what was going on inside his head. 

Steve took a breath, his shoulders squaring. “What’s coming?”

The memory of Loki’s panic was still in his spine, tendrils of the echoes of danger making his muscles twitch. Bucky swallowed, wishing he could settle his agitation. It was hard when there wasn’t an actual enemy for him to shoot. 

He was here. There wasn’t much point in playing coy. “Loki used to know.”

Steve jolted in surprise, then looked at him with a new carefulness. “So you are working with him.” He didn’t sound like that was completely unexpected news.

Bucky set his jaw. If the other Avengers really did have a huge problem with Loki, even after everything…he tried to work it out in his head. Steve and his teammates together might be strong allies and a good investment for defense, but there was no guarantee they were all going to be as thrilled with the situation when it came to him. Especially since Loki had decided, like he always did, that they were taking things about as subtle as a knife to the gut.

And Bucky was pretty sure none of the Avengers would have a clue about what to do with whatever he was now. Even though most of Loki’s memories had been scraped out, he was probably the only person on Earth who would have understanding of whatever Bucky had become. 

Bucky would rather go it alone than give up that partnership for people he didn’t know.

He needed to make sure Steve understood where his loyalties were currently geared. “It’s better protection for us to stay together.”

Steve didn’t look like the answer thrilled him. That careful look intensified, blue eyes watching him unblinkingly. “Your eyes are red, now.”

Funny thing to focus on, considering the shape the rest of Bucky’s body was in. Not to mention the obvious glittering of spreading frost on the floor around him. He wasn’t normally this sloppy, but he also wasn’t usually this on edge. “HYDRA spliced in Loki’s DNA into my blood to make me stronger.”

“I know,” Steve said, and the temperature in the room had dropped enough now that the air in front of him clouded with his breath. “We found some files.” Steve glanced to his bedroom door and back again, like he was checking to make sure they were still alone. “That was you, that got to Sokovia first. We thought our intel might have been wrong, or that some HYDRA agents had escaped with the Tesseract.” His gaze was steady. “Does Loki have the scepter?”

“Why?” Bucky shifted his weight, his guard going up. 

Steve sighed, shoulders rising. His arms were starting to draw in a bit, a flush peppering his skin as the cold started to get to him. “How much do you know about his invasion?”

Bucky glowered. If Steve was about to start talking to him like he was an idiot… “I know that it ended with him screaming for two years in the basement of a HYDRA facility before I pulled him out. What did your files tell you about that?”

Steve seemed to recognize he needed to choose a different tack. He chose to answer instead of pressing Bucky further. “We don’t know everything,” he admitted. “What we do know is that he was being experimented on so HYDRA could make more enhanced soldiers, and that most of the test subjects they used when developing the formula died. And that they were testing some new mind control technology on him.” Steve sighed, his forehead wrinkling. “They didn’t have any records on what happened to him in the end. We weren’t sure if he was even still alive.”

Bucky shook his head, and he hadn’t thought he was this angry a second ago, but the words kept spilling out. “He was like me: almost didn’t know his head from his ass. But worse, because they hadn’t gotten to the stage where they could use him yet. Didn’t need him functional, you know? And when Insight failed, they just forgot about him, dumped him like trash to cook in this lightning torture room they’d set up. He’s still covered in scars from it. I don’t know much about his physiology, but I’m pretty sure if I’d waited even one more day to break in, he would have been dead. Or at least all the parts of him that counted.” 

Steve had gone quiet, and there was something burning in his eyes, now. An old, recognizable hatred. The kind that made a man so angry he’d tear through his enemies like a bull through paper.

Bucky took in a breath, hoping he wasn’t about to draw that focus to himself. “And yeah, I gave him the scepter. He knows how to use it better than I do.” 

He didn’t mention that Loki needed it more, that his body was so damaged from what HYDRA had done that his magic wasn’t as easily accessed without the scepter padding his power.

Steve backed off an inch on the quiet anger. He looked Bucky up and down again, again with that same sort of care that really made Bucky want to ask him what the hell his problem was. “He hasn’t used it on you.”

That was a hint, but Bucky didn’t know what Steve was getting at. The only thing Loki used the scepter for concerning him was to augment communications through the mind link that had formed from their shared blood. And that was mostly so he could turn Bucky into his personal seeing eye assassin. 

And there was no way in hell he was telling Steve about that.

“No,” Bucky answered. “He just uses it to help us survive.”

“The Avengers can help,” Steve said, the words matter of fact. His stance was still a little too stiff to be relaxed. “If you stay here with us.” _With me,_ went unspoken.

Bucky breathed out through his nostrils. He curled and tightened the fingers of his metal hand. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We’re not exactly safe to be around.”

The edge of hardness bled almost completely off of Steve’s face. His eyebrows raised, the rest of his expression going gentle. “I don’t believe that,” he said, emphasizing the words by taking another step in complete disregard of Bucky’s earlier warnings. “They found me frozen solid on the shore of the Potomac. I know you pulled me from the river.”

“I almost killed you,” Bucky pointed out. Loki’s DNA had made the rest of him as strong as the arm. Steve had been almost unrecognizable beneath the blood by the time he was done with him. “I didn’t know what the serum they made from Loki was doing to me. I still don’t.” 

Steve’s voice still spoke without a thread of doubt. “The hospital said the ice was the only way I’d been kept stable long enough for them to treat my injuries.”

“I know.” Bucky shook his head. He’d been so horrified when his mission target had shaken loose his memories that the frost had poured out of him. “That doesn’t mean I meant to do it.”

Steve was unflinching. “I think you did.” 

And fuck if that metaphorical extended hand didn’t get more appealing, even if Bucky knew the stupidity that was behind it. “You don’t know anything. After the serum...it took the better part of a month before I could get even somewhat used to the strength.”

If anything, Steve’s face became even friendlier. “You’re right,” he said wryly. “How could I possibly have any clue about what that’s like.”

Bucky bared his teeth. “The first time I slept after I was done changing, the ice accumulation caved in roofs of every building within a two block radius. I would have taken out an entire hospital if I hadn’t figured it out before that.”

Steve sobered up. “We have people,” he said, the words a suggestion. “Doctors. They could see if there’s a way to reverse it.”

“No. Any doctor that touches me is going to end up dead.” Bucky wasn’t going to sugarcoat it. He performed most of his own triage for more serious injuries. Anything minor healed overnight. Not even Loki was allowed to touch him when he was really hurt. “Anyway, I’ve kind of had enough of people trying to shove shit inside me and turn me into something I’m not.”

“No one’s going to force you,” Steve said, angling a bit more towards obvious reassurance. “But if you change your mind-”

“I won’t.” Bucky kept his voice hard. Better to lay the ground rules now. He knew Steve was just as stubborn about helping people as he was at fighting them. 

“Okay,” Steve said with a nod. “But you’re here. You’re talking to me. I know you’re nervous, but Buck, I’m not going to pretend I’m not happy that you came.”

“You can thank Loki for that, too,” Bucky said, with grudging acceptance. 

Steve frowned again, but he didn’t look as worried by the mention of Loki as he had before. “Where is he now?”

Bucky tried a more insistent prod at the mind barrier. Usually he just let Loki do his thing, but he wanted him to have ample warning when Steve went looking. 

The wall opened up immediately. Loki had been waiting for it. That familiar background noise of emotions and thoughts poured back in. 

Bucky felt a part of himself loosen with relief at the return of the connection, and wondered how much of that was actually him, and how much was Loki.

“He’s in Thor’s room.”

\---------

The first step had been done. Loki hoped that it would be the most difficult among those they would need to take. 

It had gone quite well, all things considered. 

The four of them gathered. When Bucky saw him, there was a brief relief followed by a wash of livid fury. Loki got the distinct impression that if Thor and Captain Rogers had not been present, there would be a much more aggressive aspect to their reuniting. As it was, Bucky held himself in check in front of their audience.

Captain Rogers suggested the common area, but Bucky outright refused on the reasoning that the space was too large and they could not trust that no one would happen upon them out in the open. When Rogers informed them both that no harm was going to come to them, Bucky only sent his purported friend a blank stare. 

They compromised in a small section of the lounge, in an alcove surrounded by three grey walls, where attack would only come from one direction. It limited their possible physical exits, but Loki still held the scepter, and could call the Tesseract forth in an instant if they needed to flee. No one would catch them unawares.

There were still more Avengers in the building to consider, after all. Ones that would be much less pleased about their current invaders.

Thor and Rogers took seats across from them, still in their sleepwear. They, at least, continued to present a nonviolent front, if an uneasy one.

_Your brother’s giving me funny looks,_ Bucky informed Loki, with a wave of tension. _He looks like he’s gonna drag you over by the scruff of your neck any second to keep you away from me._

Loki wouldn’t have been surprised. What memories he had and their most recent meeting told him that Thor tended towards heavy doses of physicality in his more emotional interactions. _Just avoid inspiring true anger. Did Rogers present any relevant information?_

_They cracked a few of HYDRA’s files, but they haven’t seen much. Steve knows a lot less than Fury did. Thor give you anything useful?_

_Not as such, beyond a blanket offer of protection. But I will remedy that._

Loki leaned forward, and tried to make the position seem something to emphasize his engagement, rather than an attempt to better see expressions and body language. “It would seem both of our sides are in possession of incomplete information.”

“Incomplete information concerning what,” Thor asked. The hammer rested on the ground between his feet, ready to be called to him in an instant if needed.

“Concerning each other, of course.” Loki gripped the scepter, letting its power comfort him. “I was indisposed for two years. There wasn’t much chance to read up on Earth’s mightiest heroes. And, of course, there is the little matter of induced amnesia to consider.” 

“Are you offering to trade information,” Thor asked, clearly confused. Perhaps he thought his offer of a return to brotherhood would be the only safety Loki required.

He allowed his gaze to focus on Thor as much as possible. “I meant what I said. I have changed. I know the folly of challenging you. But it stands to reason that considering our history, we do not have enough reason to offer one another much trust. Such negotiations would be beneficial in that regard.”

“Or we could just have a conversation,” Rogers said. His emotions were less plain as compared to Thor. “The first thing I’ll offer is that there’s no need for a bargain if you’re looking for help. But you’re right. The trust will need some cultivating.”

Loki breathed in deeply. He prepared himself for their demands, wondering how much freedom he would be required to surrender. 

Bucky tensed beside him. “We won’t be locked up,” he blurted. “And we won’t be studied. And if you want us to help, Loki gets to keep both the scepter and the Tesseract.”

Loki sharply turned his gaze upon his ally.

Bucky kept his eyes forward, but his anger penetrated Loki’s mind like an ice spike. _You weren’t seriously thinking of just handing yourself over?_

Loki thinned his lips. _What other outcome did you think there would be if we were to come to them?_

Bucky’s hands curled where they rested on his thighs. _Cultivating trust doesn’t mean you give someone absolute power over you. That was Pierce’s schtick. The Avengers are different._

Loki wasn’t convinced. _Only in that they preferred to make my imprisonment someone else’s problem the first time. They took on an army of Chitauri. Earth would have been beholden to them for their assistance and heroism. If they had truly protested my being taken, they could have just as easily gone to war with SHIELD._

“Tony will probably want to run some scans on them,” Rogers was saying, unaware of the silent argument happening before him.

Bucky’s eyes flicked towards him, for just a moment. _If that’s really the route you want to go, this might have to be where we part._ Despite Bucky’s conviction, Loki felt the unhappiness within his ally’s agitation. 

He gripped the scepter more tightly. Bucky could display stubbornness, and spoke his thoughts with truth, but he was not unswayable. He generally accomodated Loki’s wishes, if with substantial complaint. _I don’t think I need to remind you that this was your idea. If they were really so bad, you would not have attempted to convince me of this route._

_It’s not that. The Avengers are the safest option, and it’s better for us if they know there’s some big threat out there._ Bucky’s shoulders twitched downwards, his posture curling. _But I already told you, I don’t care who has the keys to my cage. I’m not going back to that._

Loki’s gaze lowered to the floor, unseeing in his consideration. Rogers was still talking, likely trying to convince them of the reason behind his suggestions. But none of the words penetrated.

Loki imagined himself handing over the scepter and thus his ability to fight. The Tesseract and his ability to flee.

Bucky and his ability for clear senses. 

Loki attempted to swallow; his throat felt stopped up by pebbles. “We will not submit to any scanning.”

Rogers stopped speaking. “I meant the weapons,” he said, somehow managing to sound both firm in his stance and comforting. “Nothing’s going to happen to either of you.”

“No offense, Steve,” Bucky said, his voice coming out strong despite the emotions Loki could still feel emitting from him, “but I think we’ve figured out that even with the serum, there are things out there that are way bigger than you. The guy sitting right next to you, for one.”

“And what exactly is this threat you speak of,” Thor asked, his hands clasped together. “You’ve given us no hints. No details. Loki did not speak of any such thing when he first invaded, even when pressed. He would have had me think he sought Earth’s domination and found the power to do so all on his own.”

“So you didn’t believe him,” Rogers asked, his eyes on Thor.

“No,” Thor answered. He leaned back in his seat, and Loki felt Bucky translate the movement as ‘pointed alpha male posturing.’ “Stark rendered the Chitauri hive mind inactive, and Natasha closed the portal. I would think any possible threats would know better than to try again.”

“Or they’re just going to try harder next time,” Bucky said, refusing to be intimidated.

“Then they will fall harder,” Thor said, his eyes narrowing. “I apologize, whoever you are. But this particular situation is between the Avengers and Loki.”

“Thor,” Rogers said, frowning deeply at his teammate, “that’s Bucky.”

“What?” Thor unlaced his hands and sat straighter, looking between Rogers and Bucky in confusion. “But you said he still appeared human, not...”

“Not what,” Bucky asked, voice flat.

“Like a monster,” Loki finished. He injected his voice with false brightness. “Like one of the most bestial of races to ever exist.” Thor’s head whipped sharply around. Loki shrugged, dark humor pulling at his mouth. “It would seem I remember that much.”

“Why don’t you lay it on thicker, next time,” Bucky said with heavy sarcasm. “I don’t think that was passive-aggressive enough.”

“The serum from Loki must have had some side effects HYDRA didn’t expect,” Rogers said, a startling level of understanding in his tone. “You said Loki was adopted.”

Thor nodded, sighing deeply. “He is...not of the same race as I.” His head dipped down. “Our parents never told us.”

“Really,” Loki said, taking in the picture the words painted. “Would this have something to do with our previous antagonism?”

“It should not have,” Thor said, fists clenching. “We are still brothers, and we were raised as such.”

“I believe you,” Loki said, tapping his fingers against the scepter. “But I also remember Jotunheim as a world of beasts. A boy, saying he would hunt the monsters down and slay them all. Is that true, or am I imagining it?” He awaited the answer in curiosity.

Thor made a noise of frustration. “We were children.”

“So we learned differently as adults,” Loki said, already having an inkling that it was in fact the direct opposite. He kept his voice free of accusation, not wanting Thor to take the words as a direct challenge.

Thor still didn’t respond.

There was something...wriggling within Loki. The situation was beginning to feel a bit like watching a particularly entertaining play. That tickle in his lungs that he had felt in Thor’s room was making a firm return.

Had Asgard really taken in a monster, lied to him about his identity, and then expected him to _not_ have some rather large grievances with that fact? 

Was that yet another reason Thor had abandoned Loki to his fate?

It would seem he would have to do some coaxing for an answer. “Tell me a positive trait held by the Frost Giants,” he said, leaning forward and resting an elbow upon his knee. “Something you admire about them. Something, anything other than their penchant for violence.”

Rogers and Bucky remained silent as they waited.

Thor huffed out a breath. “Why are you doing this?”

He spoke as if Loki was being particularly cruel with his line of questioning. Perhaps he was. Perhaps this was yet more indication of the forgotten relationship laid between them.

He schooled his expression against the grin that wanted to form. “As Captain Rogers said, we are cultivating trust. Tell me what you truly think of the blood running within my ally’s veins. The same that runs within mine. Come,” Loki coaxed. “It cannot be worse than what HYDRA saw in me.” Or what he saw in himself.

“Thor,” Rogers broke in quietly, “remember all those times we talked about second chances?”

Thor’s shoulders rose and fell. He hunched forward, posture sloped with the air of a guilty child. “I cannot speak for all Frost Giants,“ he said hesitantly. “And I have...learned shame, for that fact.” He glanced at Rogers, who nodded encouragingly. “But...I found brotherhood with one, even if I did not know your true form. And when you fell, I mourned you more than I have ever mourned anything in my entire life.”

Loki felt his throat tightening again, this time with something other than fear. He slowly sat back. “Ah,” he answered, and his desire for this, the safety offered, inexplicably grew. 

He would go, he realized. Even if the fact placed much more emphasis on how broken he remained, he would let himself be chained for it. For the hope that all he needed to do to be forgiven was lay down his arms and return home, if a home for which he only held scattered memories.

_Someone’s coming,_ Bucky warned him, with appalling timing. _Casual. I don’t think it’s an attack but we shouldn’t wait for it to become one._

Loki’s heart jolted, but he hesitated. The longing within him still pulsed strong.

_We only have two down,_ Bucky pointed out with growing worry. _We can’t trust them all yet._

Resignation filled him. _I know._ Loki summoned the Tesseract. “I am sorry,” he said. “We will return.”

Thor and Rogers’s startled faces reflected the glow as Loki pulled energy from the cube. But instead of using it to transport them elsewhere, he only used it as a distraction as he simply blanketed Bucky and himself from sight. 

If they ran now, he feared he would not be able to force himself back here. But he had to see the others, and know what threat potential they possessed. 

When Bucky realized what he had done and that they were not leaving, there was a pulse of heavy discontent, but he did not protest further.

Thor had stood with enough violence to send his chair skidding back. His eyes carefully searched what would now, to him, be empty space.

There was a series of taps at the wall, before Stark rounded the corner. “Thor, buddy, we’re gonna need to have another talk if that storm last night wasn’t a natural weather pattern. You’re oversaturating the lawn again.” He immediately slowed in cautious confusion. “Uh...” He raised a hand, pointing to the frost on the walls. “Why does it look like Edward Scissorhands was carving ice sculptures in the lounge?”

Bucky sat straighter.

_If he comes near, I will use the scepter to inspire his attention elsewhere,_ Loki promised.

_I hate you sometimes,_ Bucky answered, his full attention now devoted to the new threat.

“Loki is alive,” Thor said, his eyes unknowingly meeting Loki’s before he turned to Stark. “He was here with a friend of Steve’s.”

“Was,” Rogers said, still staring at the spot that the false portal had opened. “They ran when they heard you coming.”

Stark looked a bit spooked. “Can’t help but notice that the two of you are unarmed and still in your jammie jams.”

“They want to come in,” Rogers said. “They said they want to help us. But they’re scared.”

“Not surprised, considering we kind of handed Loki over on a silver platter to a secret terrorist organization that ended up turning him into a lab rat.” Stark ran his hand down his face. “We’re sure getting even wasn’t on his mind?”

“Loki has the Tesseract,” Thor said. “It would allow him to transport anywhere in an instant. If he had wanted to attack us, he would have had ample power to do it when we were most vulnerable.”

Stark gaped in incredulity. “Not _quite_ the reassurance I was looking for.”

Rogers sighed, and appeared to give up on his hope that Loki and Bucky would simply apparate back into existence. He turned his back to them. “They indicated whoever sent Loki here to invade might be a problem in the future.”

Stark perked up at that. “What’d he give us? Timeframe? Troop estimations? Abilities? Social security number?”

“HYDRA’s tortures left Loki without much of his mind,” Thor said with no small amount of anger. Loki found himself comforted that even in his absence, Thor’s emotions remained much the same. “He would only say that he believed someone to be coming.”

“How conveniently vague,” Stark said. “Wait. Hang on, rewind. You said he was here with Steve’s friend.” He frowned, his gaze going to Rogers. “What friend would that be?”

Rogers grimaced, then looked grave. “It’s a long story.”

Stark jerked his thumb in indication. “Kitchen. Tell it over coffee.”

Stark, Thor and Rogers moved themselves to the other end of the room. Loki remained where he was, considering their options. 

Bucky’s mind gently pressed. _What now?_

Loki rose from his seat, using the scepter to keep careful control over the spread of his magic. _Now, we follow. Until we know what the rest have to say regarding our appearance._

Bucky was a solid presence at his side, gazing at the trio of men gathered at the table for breakfast. _That could take a while,_ he pointed out. _Are you going to be able to handle hiding us for that long?_

Loki watched as Rogers removed a carton of eggs from the fridge and handed them to Thor, who was standing over a heating pan. _It can only help us to know exactly how to appeal to them._

_Okay,_ Bucky responded with begrudging agreement. _So we’ve officially started a criminal stakeout in Avengers territory._

Loki felt reckless amusement pull at his lips. _What could go wrong?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Regular updates on this will be slowing after this. I have most of the third chapter written, but I’m focusing on my main fic right now.

They spent the morning hours as ghosts in the compound. 

Loki allowed himself to take shared comfort in the ease that overtook Bucky’s mind as the soldier sank into a heavy focus on the completion of the clear set of goals they had agreed upon. It was, despite its trouble, a fairly simple task: stand and observe the Avengers for any information of relevance. A highly stressful social interaction now turned into a parsing of targets. The only difference between this and the dozens of HYDRA bases was the clear pull of longing that Bucky felt whenever his gaze ran over Rogers.

As Bucky had predicted, Loki found their continued presence not the easiest of tasks. Holding the illusion of nothingness upon both of them was tiring, and required constant concentration, even with Bucky having regained his control over the suppression of his frost output. With the steady sapping of his magic, Loki began to hear and see the world more and more as if he were underwater, any mystical enhancements made to his damaged senses fading. 

And the prolonged quiet and stillness were added difficulties that Loki did not adjust well to. He occupied himself by keeping his eyes directed at Thor while maintaining a careful distance. He lamented that he could no longer see his brother with his own eyes save for a vague blur of the red of his clothes and the gold of his hair.

Bucky easily took over as their sole gatherer of intelligence, opening himself so Loki could hear what was said as his senses continually sank into greater ruin. Rogers and Thor were outright in their opinions that Loki and Bucky should be accepted into their group, though Rogers was in agreement that they should still consider Loki with some caution. They presented the list of demands Loki and Bucky had made: no doctors, caging, studying, or divesting them of their greatest assets. 

Stark expressed blunt worry at the idea of Loki and a former HYDRA assassin joining them, especially when given the terms surrounding the scepter and the Tesseract. “Thor, you know I’m as upset as you are that we essentially handed Loki over to get A Clockwork Oranged by our own government. But the scepter and the Tesseract are big. We can’t just leave them in his hands.” 

“His hands,” Thor repeated, leaning over his empty plate and lacing his fingers together. “Remind me, Stark, who was it that recently accidentally programmed a violent hive mind into his defensive suits using unstable Chitauri technology?”

Stark pointed at Thor, eyebrows raised. “Hey, that isn’t what we’re talking about right now.”

Thor huffed out a laugh, his expression creasing with an unkind smile. “If Loki had not taken the Tesseract from Sokovia you would have sought to use it instead to enhance the capabilities of your Iron Legion.”

Stark grimaced and gave a frenetic nod. “Right, okay - guilty. But it would have worked.”

Thor was not convinced. “Or it would have been worse.”

“You said Loki told you someone was coming,” Stark pointed out. “You and I both know he didn’t mean anyone on Earth. If we don’t start doing something, and I mean _now_-”

“We are doing something,” Rogers broke in, the lines on his forehead becoming pronounced with some somber emotion. “Bucky and Loki reached out to us. They didn’t have to. And if we take advantage of them for that, we would just be proving that they were right not to trust us.”

Stark raised his hands in placation. “Listen, I’m not saying I disagree, but I am thinking that maybe we should scale it back a little on giving the grudge-holding baby brother point blank opportunities with the weapons of mass destruction.”

“Loki’s anger is gone,” Thor said, with full certainty. Loki idly thought that if he had truly been presenting an act and an intention to betray his brother, it would have been terribly simple. “And he has enough strength to wield both the scepter and the Tesseract. They are not power meant for mortal hands.”

Stark looked pained, but he relented for the moment, slumping against his seat. “Did they at least happen to say when they were coming back?”

Rogers shook his head as he rose and began clearing dishes from the table. “We’ll just have to hope it’s soon.”

Stark rolled his gaze ceilingward. “I should get on the line with Pepper now instead of when we’re already in the middle of PR nightmare.” He craned his neck to look towards where Rogers had begun washing up. “I hate to say it, but it might be better to wait until that blows over to start actively switching Loki’s legal classification.”

Thor scowled in confusion. “What legal classification?”

Stark looked at Thor like he’d forgotten he was present. His expression spasmed into a grimace before he pressed the web of his hand to his face to hide it. “Yeah, uh, probably should have mentioned this earlier, but your brother’s not exactly considered - by law - to be an actual person right now.”

Thor tensed so strongly against the table that it creaked beneath his arms. “_What_?”

“It was HYDRA,” Rogers said, returning to stand beside them as Thor’s rage began to almost visibly billow from tightened muscles. “Pierce. We were working on changing it.”

Loki found himself noting with some surprise that Thor managed to somehow beat back his fury, though his anger still coated his voice like tar. “And what effect, exactly, would this consideration have?”

“Nothing much,” Stark said, looking relieved at Thor’s restraint. “Secretary of Internal Security was covering his ass just in case your dad decided he really wanted Loki back. It would’ve kept restitution for wrongful death and damage on our side at their most nominal. It’s been slow going getting that fixed, what with the government not exactly prioritizing very possibly dead former enemies of the planet.”

_”You are property, pure and simple.”_

It had not been merely the grandiose posturing of the victorious, then. Just one more fact to work towards altering to secure his safety.

_Wonder what that means for me,_ Bucky communicated, his tone containing less curiosity and more bitter acceptance.

_Likely nothing good,_ Loki responded. _You are well and thoroughly tainted._

_Thanks, jackass._

“But _that’s_ not actually the part we need to worry about,” Stark assured, moving to his feet and rounding the table towards Thor before propping his hip on it. “Since he’s definitely alive, it’ll be an easy fix to swing him back to, y’know - a higher set of rights than a bicycle. Way easier than making sure he doesn’t kill us all at some point before we get it done.”

“Do it,” Thor demanded, his gaze steady. “Loki gave me his word that he was no longer seeking vengeance. We have no reason not to help him.”

Stark raised his eyebrows. “See, I’d really love to believe you, since that would mean I’m not risking getting thrown out the window again once he shows up.”

“You didn’t see Loki,” Rogers said. “He was covered in scars. And the way he talked to us...it was like he was negotiating his own surrender. Like he was worried we’d do worse if we caught him ourselves.”

Loki didn’t feel much shame at that. It was better for him if they knew him cowed.

He felt an irritated nudge from Bucky that he ignored.

Stark made an odd gulping noise. “Right, because in his mind us Avengers are probably all sadistic assholes that really take getting even to the next level.”

_Stark’s getting pale,_ Bucky noted. _He’s trying to act like he’s brushing it off but every time they get close to talking about HYDRA torturing you his pulse jumps._

Loki carefully kept his thoughts steered away from memories of his captivity to prevent encouraging much the same response in himself. _You think he can be convinced?_

_Probably. If none of us do anything to set each other off._ Bucky gazed at him sidelong. _You really threw him out a window?_

Loki smiled in bitterness. _Unfortunately, I do not recall the exact action. I fear my crimes against them are...extensive. But I know I have wronged most of them personally._

Bucky gave a solemn nod, his eyes moving back forward. _So we’re not leaving to regroup until we’ve seen them all._

Not for the first time, Loki felt a swell of loathing towards the man he did not remember being. _I will have to be sure to make a good first impression._

\----------

Stakeouts with Loki were a huge pain in the ass.

Bucky was being strongly reminded of this unfortunate fact as he was forced to experience it yet again. Planning, raiding, killing, and running all worked like a dream by comparison. Those were the instances where Bucky was given the reasons he had agreed to keep up this partnership for so long and tolerate all of Loki’s bullshit in between. But during stakeouts, especially those that stretched into hours, Loki got twitchier the longer he was left in his own head. Impatient. His method of fixing it tended to involve improvisations, ones he didn’t always run by Bucky before implementing.

Even if HYDRA had ever managed to figure out the right process to bring him under their control, it was Bucky’s firm belief that Loki would have made a crap Winter Soldier. At least without years and years of retraining and conditioning.

They were currently watching the news of their visit being dropped on a bleary-eyed Clint Barton, who’d slept into late afternoon before wandering into the common area for coffee and food. As the information sank in, Barton’s drowsiness quickly faded into wide-eyed shock, and he began to scan the room in paranoid thoroughness.

Except it wasn’t paranoia. Bucky was still in the same spot he’d picked since they’d started this mission, but Loki was now moving in a slow and careful circuit around the room. Barton unknowingly ran his eyes over him more than once. 

Loki’s growing proximity to the gathered Avengers made Bucky feel increasingly like strangling his partner was an appropriate option. And every time he made that known to Loki, he got some excuse about the lack of distance being a tactical decision to better see the Avengers. 

“You’re shitting me,” Barton said once Steve was finished explaining their plan to help.

“That’s basically what I said,” Stark said. “But the spookier thought now is they could pop up literally anywhere and we wouldn’t know it.”

“They’re not going to attack us,” Steve said, shooting Stark an exasperated look. “They’ve had the Tesseract since Sokovia, and Bucky said Loki only uses the scepter to help them survive.”

“They were not in good health,” Thor added. “In mind or body.”

Barton gave Thor a blank stare. “Sure. I get it.” He abruptly slammed his fork down against his plate, loud enough that Stark startled and Thor and Steve came to attention. Even Loki went still in his pacing, but the noise seemed to draw him instead of encouraging him to stay away.

“Clint,” Steve said.

Barton shook his head to head off whatever Steve might have been about to say, gaze directed at the dishes he’d assaulted. “Sorry, Cap. Might have been lying just now.” He looked between Thor and Steve. “Go ahead.” When they only stared at him, he raised his eyebrows. “Oh, do you need me to tell you where you left off? It was somewhere around your amazing plan to let _Loki_ move in with us while he keeps the weapons that let him turn people into murder puppets.”

Steve sighed. “I know it’s hard to believe, but Thor’s right. They were both pretty unrecognizable.”

“Brought an intergalactic war down on us with the Tesseract, too,” Barton was saying with a put-upon air of distraction, but Bucky could see the muscles in his forearms cording. “Can’t forget that.”

“Apparently _Loki_ forgot, actually,” Stark said. “In between having his brain toasted like an overcooked omelette.”

Thor nodded in agreement as his look of guilt deepened. “Over a thousand years of memory, and Loki was damaged enough that he remembers nearly none of it.”

Loki came to a stop right behind Barton’s seat. Bucky sent a glare Loki couldn’t see but that Bucky knew he could damn well _feel_ through their link.

Barton’s shoulders twitched like he could sense Loki hovering over his back. He was looking between Thor and Steve with an expression of dumbfoundedness, his mask of nonchalance finally cracking with betrayal. “And what happens when he does, Thor? Huh? Cap? When he remembers that he really wanted to kill us all and take over the world? Are we just gonna let him stay loose and wait around for him to get those memories back? The Tesseract could give him a straight shot to whatever army he wants to send our way next.”

_Take a step back,_ Bucky finally ordered, his patience with Loki beginning to splinter. _I don’t want to have to keep an eye on you and them at the same time._

Loki stayed where he was in casual dismissal. _I am simply observing._

_No you’re not. You’re getting bored._

_What does that matter?_

_Because you tend to do _really dumb shit _when you’re bored, if right now is any indication._

“Loki has changed,” Thor was again saying, but it was clear his patience was wearing thin. “He told me he would no longer seek to challenge the Avengers.”

Barton looked at Thor like he’d lost his mind. “So we’re just supposed to believe him.”

Thor’s nostrils flared, his lips twisting in fury. “It was more than just words. He cowered from me. He nearly collapsed at the sound of thunder. He fled in fear at Stark’s arrival.”

“There’s an ego boost,” Stark remarked with some sarcasm. “I’ll be sure to have an honorary PTSD club badge made up for him.”

“You’re agreeing to this, huh, Tony?” Barton blinked rapidly. “You’ve spent the last five months digging yourself deeper and deeper into this Chicken Little theory of yours. But now you’re just planning on letting the guy at the heart of it walk through the front door and sleep on your couch.”

Loki _still_ hadn’t changed position. _Move,_ Bucky again demanded, _or I’m going to come over there and move you._

_Give me a few more moments._

“I’d be letting it happen because Loki’s a small fry,” Stark said. “And I distinctly remember him giving us a run for our money despite that. I’m not going in blind when the sharks finally show up.”

“No one’s going to judge you if you decide this is a dealbreaker,” Rogers said, and the look Thor shot him was heavy with disagreement towards that statement. “But you saw the files, Clint. That was only a fraction of what HYDRA did to him.”

“Loki has paid far beyond what most could endure,” Thor said.

“Good,” Barton muttered. “He deserved it.” He abruptly shoved his seat back as he stood up, and Loki didn’t see it fast enough to move out of the way.

The chair slammed into Loki’s shin. 

Barton felt the resistance and whirled as Loki quickly sidestepped away. Bucky was so angry he didn’t even think words through their link. He just crossed the room and roughly yanked Loki a safe distance from their gathered targets.

_They still can’t see me,_ Loki said, indicating the scepter, but Bucky could tell he was enjoying the way that Barton was nervously looking for whatever it was he’d hit.

Bucky tightened his grip into Loki’s forearm until he felt the pain mirror from Loki’s mind into his. _Why couldn’t I get linked to someone with half a teaspoon of self-preservation?_

Loki shrugged. _Bad luck._

The rage overflowed, and Bucky only just held himself back from socking Loki in the face. He was surprised he could still hear his own thoughts over the way his heart seemed to slam itself into the walls of his chest. _Loki, I swear to fucking god…_

Loki raised his free hand. _Peace. I promise I did not intend for that to happen. Look, the Hawk is leaving._

Bucky turned his head to see Barton stalking out with his plate, evidently having decided that the oddness with the chair was nothing for him to stay concerned about. 

Bucky reluctantly released Loki, but didn’t move away. _If I don’t end up killing you, my money’s on him being the one to do it._

_Unlikely,_ Loki responded, too damn smug for someone who’d nearly screwed them over. _You haven’t even seen Banner’s beast form up close._

_Yeah, but apparently you fucked with Barton’s head. If it were me, I’d be hunting you down to make sure it never happened again._ Bucky turned away to plant himself back in his spot, still beyond pissed.

The teasing edge finally left Loki’s thoughts. He slowly approached Bucky, standing beside him with a questioning look. _And my continued possession of the scepter doesn’t worry you more now._

_You’re in my head already,_ Bucky pointed out with a heaping of frustration. _And I’m in yours. Even if you were planning to do something and I didn’t know about it, who’s to say it wouldn’t just backfire and bleed into you too?_

Loki pressed his lips together, a rush of discomfort flooding from his mind into Bucky’s as if to emphasize that fact. _What a disconcerting thought._

\----------

At Bucky’s behest, Loki placed more effort in keeping his distance from the Avengers, even if at times it was particularly tempting to perform some minor mischief to occupy himself. It wouldn’t have been that hard - warming a cold drink, or over-salting the food the Avengers had stored for cooking. Perhaps just specifically Thor’s. Something minor enough that it would be considered an odd occurrence, and not connected to Loki in any way.

And, if it was somehow linked to him, Thor’s reaction would provide Loki with more insight into how he would act towards him if provoked.

But Bucky remained stringent, snapping angrily the instant he felt Loki even half-form any such thoughts. Loki was not quite used to his companion showing this much agitation. The encounter with Barton had rattled Bucky enough for him to remain uneasy long after the Hawk’s exit. And he was only mildly comforted when Stark also took his leave to spend time in his workshop, with instructions to be summoned should Loki and Bucky reappear.

Thor and Rogers took to the compound’s gym for a sparring match. Bucky refused to allow them to follow to witness that, his mind descending into dozens of possibilities for discovery while Rogers and Thor were engaged in violence. But it was not long before their targets reconvened in the common room to discuss dinner options, a poor coating of a normal conversation to cover the unhappy distraction that was present in both.

The next Avenger to show herself was Agent Romanoff. Bucky didn’t signal her approach until she was nearly in the room. 

_She knows already,_ Bucky noted. _She was masking her steps in case we were here._

Agent Romanoff did not bother to respond to the greetings she received from Thor and Rogers. Her brow furrowed as she jerked her chin. “What’s this I’m hearing from Clint about Loki being back?”

Rogers and Thor exchanged gazes, each taking a breath as if they were gearing themselves up for a great task. Then they explained the situation for a third time.

Romanoff kept her expression blank, either with intent or because she was not certain what to make of this turn of events. “You’re sure they’re not just playing us,” she asked.

“They’re not,” another voice answered. Loki immediately felt Bucky’s mood take a darker turn as Director Fury entered, the very sight of him increasing the tension and urge for offensive violence tenfold. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic.” Fury pulled a small device from his pocket, which he set on the table between the others. Loki recognized it as one similar to what Bucky had used to steal HYDRA’s files. “We decoded a large number of HYDRA video feeds. Fair warning that these contain some heavy stuff. They weren’t trying to kill Loki, but their policy on permanent damage was loose at best.” Fury gazed pointedly at Agent Romanoff. “I might have paid him and Barnes a visit recently.”

“So you don’t think they’re a threat, either,” Rogers asked, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, I definitely think they’re a threat,” Fury corrected. “Just one currently aimed at the right people. If they’re coming to you, that’s a big step. And I know you guys are a bit more put together these days, but I’ll say it just the same. Do me a favor and stop any murder rampages before they start?”

_Kind of feeling up to a murder rampage right now,_ Bucky communicated. The words were only somewhat joking.

_I can cast a hex on him,_ Loki offered. _A small annoyance. He’d barely know it was there._

Bucky shook his head. _You already waved your magic in Fury’s face when he came to us. Anything you do to him now, he’s going to know it was you. Anyway, seeing what the other Avengers think of us is more important._

_Of course,_ Loki agreed. _And if he becomes a problem, we can always kill him later._

_That too._

“You were the one who told them to come here,” Romanoff said. 

“Not in so many words,” Fury said. “But yeah, I might have planted that seed.”

Thor was staring at Fury in sudden suspicion. “Years ago you wished for Loki’s defeat at any cost. You would have had him suffer at my hands to serve your goals.”

Fury narrowed his eye. “And I’d ask it again in a second if he compromised the safety of my planet.” The sharp edge to both his voice and expression faded. “But that’s not why I’m here. And neither Loki or Barnes are the first people I’ve dealt with who want to switch sides. I think we’ve all realized working with former enemies is a lot less dangerous than it is with people who’ve never revealed their true colors.”

Romanoff looked reluctant, but thoughtful. She clearly respected Fury enough to listen to his opinions, even if she wasn’t entirely in agreement with them.

Fury straightened with a sigh. “I should probably get going, being dead and all. HYDRA’s been thinned out in a big way, but they’re not entirely gone.”

“If you need us to help,” Rogers said, the words fading as Fury waved him off.

“If this goes according to plan,” Fury said, “the rest of you are about to have your hands very full. I’ll just have to step it up if Barnes and Loki are taking a break from doing all my work for me.”

Loki felt Bucky’s mind steadily sink into resignation at the mention of HYDRA’s current state. _Cut off one head…_

_And the remaining heads should know better than to show themselves else they share the same fate,_ Loki finished.

_Sure,_ Bucky responded, with little inflection. _That’s how it works._

Loki couldn’t fault Bucky’s pessimism; at least the HYDRA agents that most concerned him were those that were still alive. 

All of those that persisted in hounding Loki’s thoughts were already dead. And he suspected they would be remaining to cement their victory over his will long after every last member had perished.

\-----------

Sam Wilson arrived at the compound as evening fell. He was another, newer member of the Avengers, and one Loki had little information on. He evidently had been privy to and involved in the active search for Bucky and Loki that Rogers and Thor had undertaken. Wilson’s concerns with the news of their visit were expressed in quiet solemnity, but it was quite evident that he would follow whatever choice Rogers made.

_He was not among those I fought in New York,_ Loki said. 

_Yeah, but I tried to kill him,_ Bucky admitted. He sent Loki a vivid picture of the man having a wing torn off and being kicked from a great height. A memory Bucky retained clearly, having been one of the first made after his very last mindwipe.

_What a relief,_ Loki thought back. _And we had thought I would consistently be the biggest problem for every single Avengers member._

_There’s still time to mess with him, if you want a perfect score._

_Was that encouragement?_

_Don’t fucking think about it,_ Bucky snapped, but without the edge of harshness he’d been harboring. His spirits must have been lifting.

Loki was quietly pleased himself. So far, they had five of the Avengers agreeing to their presence, and without major argument to their lack of imprisonment - even for the ones they’d actively attempted to kill. That was not a number to be scoffed at, especially considering three of them presented some of the strongest members.

And then there was Banner.

\-----------

“Loki,” Banner repeated, rubbing nervously at his chest. “I...hmm.” 

“He came looking for help,” Rogers said, an air of weariness in the words. “Everything he’s said so far has checked out. We still don’t know what this mysterious threat is that sent him, but we were about to see if there’s any information in these video files from HYDRA that Fury gave us.”

“Oh, I don’t think it’s a good idea if I see those,” Banner said. “I got enough atrocity stored in my head from the Hulk raiding those bases.”

“But you would not argue against my brother joining us,” Thor said, clearly still discouraged after Barton and Romanoff had made it clear that they were not entirely on board with this development.

Banner laughed nervously. “I mean, I’ve got a rampaging monster living inside my mind. It’s not like I can judge.” He winced. “I know how obvious this sounds, but it’s probably for the best if we make sure he doesn’t surprise me.”

Bucky was genuinely shocked. _That’s all of them._

Loki felt a heavy tightness in his lungs. His hand shook against the scepter. _No, it isn’t._

_What?_ Bucky immediately realized. _No, don’t you fucking-_

All at once Loki ripped free the glamor keeping them hidden. 

Banner’s eyes widened. Thor and Rogers shot to their feet. Bucky cursed - loudly. 

Loki cleared his throat with a weak smile. “Surprise.”

\----------

Bucky had never seen the Hulk face to face. HYDRA hadn’t been dumb enough to risk him getting flattened by something that powerful. After he’d escaped, he hadn’t been dumb enough to risk himself.

Apparently, Loki wasn’t going to give him the same kind of consideration.

The table was crushed beneath a giant green fist as its owner propelled himself towards them like a freight train. 

Bucky’s last thought as the Hulk charged forward was that there was fuck-all he could do.

Then Loki brought out the Tesseract, and the room faded in a bright and gleaming blue. The three of them were transported into the middle of the open field outside the building. Loki had somehow rearranged them so that the Hulk was directed away from them instead of right on top of them. 

The Hulk came to a skidding stop once he noticed his targets were gone. He whirled around in confusion, nostrils flaring steam into the chill of the night. When he caught sight of Loki and Bucky he roared and charged at them again, sending clumps of grass and dirt flying up behind him in his fervor.

Loki quickly teleported them from the path of danger, putting them on a fresh patch of grass.

The Hulk sought them out with growing intensity, howling his rage into the night as he was forced to turn around again.

And again.

And again.

Somehow, after the fourth time, Bucky managed to unclench his teeth long enough to speak. “You’re pissing him off. You know that makes him even stronger.”

“I do realize that,” Loki said, before moving them yet again.

Bucky swallowed hard, as if that would put his surging stomach back into the right place. “So what’s the damn goal?”

“Practice,” Loki said. “My thoughts of the Hulk are of...pain. He can quite easily break my body if he chooses. This way I-” They transported to the opposite end of the field. “-assure myself that I can avoid him if need be. And bring you with me.”

“Okay. But how are you going to _stop_ him?”

“Mostly I’m enjoying allowing him to ruin Stark’s lawn.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Can we regroup now? They’re going to need time to cool off now that you’ve pulled this shit.”

“Not yet. He might attack the Avengers.”

“They live with him. I’m sure they have protocols in place for containment.”

As if on cue, Thor shattered a window of the compound and came flying out towards the Hulk in a straight shot, slamming into him hammer-first.

Loki didn’t move them again. He turned towards the compound, squinting through the dark. Bucky followed suit and felt his tension rise as more bodies filtered through the doors onto the lawn. 

“Is Barton present?” Loki asked, because of course he couldn’t see shit.

Bucky checked, immediately zeroing in on the nocked bow and sending the image to Loki. “Yeah. He’s armed. Get ready to move us again if he attacks.”

“That’s not why I asked.” Thor was backhanded across the field, his body plowing through grass and mud. Loki visibly swallowed, before he met Bucky’s eyes. “You may want to extricate yourself as much as possible from my thoughts.” 

He immediately opened a portal with the Tesseract. He didn’t take Bucky with him.

He popped back up next to the Hulk.

Bucky stared in disbelief as Loki stowed his weapons. The link between their minds dulled as the scepter disappeared.

Loki had just effectively rendered himself all but deaf and blind.

The Hulk clamped a large hand about Loki’s neck, roaring in his face as he brought his other fist back.

Bucky threw himself into a wild sprint, but he was too far to reach them in time.

_Oh,_ he heard Loki think in a wild hysteria. _Now I remember you quite well._

All good feelings Bucky had about the day faded as he watched Loki get punched through the landscaping. Even weakened, the pain rippled through their link so hard Bucky almost felt like his own bones were splintering before he forced a wall up firmly between their minds. _Fuck. Fuck!_

The Hulk roared downwards at the crater he’d made from the force of his strength, his giant hands raised in a doubled fist. Bucky felt terror seize his lungs as he crossed the last of the distance between them, sliding over Loki and letting the cold blast out from his body until it formed a solid cave of ice around them.

The sound of the Hulk’s fists hitting the barrier blasted through Bucky’s ears, louder than a detonating block of C4. A large crack ran through the ice, creating a ragged tear as its integrity was compromised. Bucky could hear the Hulk’s fury coming in huffing breaths and growls as he scrabbled impatiently at the freezing obstacle between him and his prey. When he stopped it was to snarl and pound into the ice with a series of wild punches. Part of the wall blew out, frozen shards battering along Bucky’s back. He struggled to replace it, letting the frost spin out wildly. He tried not to look too closely at the blood pouring from Loki’s face beneath him, and not think about how close he was to sporting a matching look. 

For once, Bucky was cursing the fact that he hadn’t taken Loki up on his badgering-slash-teasing to learn magic, if only so he could figure out where he’d put the goddamn Tesseract so Bucky could get them the fuck out of here himself.

The Hulk’s fingertips punched through the ice above them, so close that Bucky could feel body heat wafting down above his head. The twitching digits kept Bucky from reforming the barrier to keep him out, and when he sent a spike upwards to stab into the Hulk’s hand it only made him angrier. The fingers above them crunched deeper through the ice, dropping half a foot closer. Bucky gasped as a ragged nail drew a sharp line of fire down his back.

Thunder boomed. 

The Hulk’s hand abruptly ripped away, tearing apart the rest of the ice barrier with it. Bucky looked up to see Thor had intercepted him, drawing the full force of that violent rage. Lights flashed in the sky above them, Stark and Wilson carefully weaving through the air to provide additional distractions. They were drawing the Hulk off to where Romanoff was standing at the ready.

Something penetrated through the dull static of Bucky’s link with Loki, quickly becoming a swirl of panic and agony as the body beneath him struggled to regain sense.

“Why the hell did you do that,” Bucky demanded as soon as he thought Loki could understand him. “Your fucking brain. Even plugged into you I can’t tell when you’re about to do something stupid.”

“You gave the terms,” Loki gasped weakly, his hands trembling over his torso. “I could not be locked up for their comfort.”

“So you let yourself get beaten to a pulp instead. Great plan.”

Bucky put his hand against Loki’s abdomen, letting a band of ice slowly conform and place gentle pressure over his body. He ignored Loki’s reaction of sharp disgust at the thought of changing with the cold. Bucky had to deal with it every fucking day, Loki could deal with it to take some relief from the ice against his shattered ribs.

Loki was still struggling to breathe. “They’ll fear me less.”

“They’ll think you’re crazy.” Bucky forced himself to dip down into Loki’s agony for a better look at his condition, grinding his teeth as it washed over him, clamping his lungs in a vice and tearing through his back and down his thighs. And if it was that bad without the full effect of the signal being broadcast through the scepter... “Goddamn it. We need to get out of here. Is your spine intact?”

“I honestly don’t know.” Loki’s laugh stopped in a gasp of pain before it started. His breaths were growing worryingly labored. “Tell Barton...I hope he enjoyed the show.”

Loki’s eyes fluttered, and he went limp. The signals of pain from his nerve endings stopped firing. Bucky slumped in relief for half a moment, panting to catch his breath, before he had the inkling to look up.

The Avengers were standing in a half circle around them. None of them looked happy with what they were seeing.

_Fuck._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with another update! There's a lot of ice, guilt, people arguing as family and friends reconnect, and whump. Isn't that what the holidays are really about?

Thor stepped forward, his hammer extended outward. Mud coated his armor and darkened his hair, leaving it wet and stringy around his face. “Step away from Loki,” he ordered, a quiet danger in his voice.

Steve reached out a gentling hand towards Thor’s arm. “Bucky’s not trying to hurt him,” he said, looking to Bucky for confirmation. “The ice is helping. Right?”

The last thing Bucky needed right now was the hint of smugness around the edges of Steve’s eyes as he said those words. “Yeah,” he admitted, keeping carefully still.

The faceplate on the Iron Man suit came up, Stark’s gaze going to Steve in panicked accusation. “You said ‘a few scars.’”

“I said he was covered in scars,” Steve said.

“Okay, and why the hell is he blue?”

Wilson turned to Stark sharply. “That’s really what you’re going to focus on right now?”

“Thor said he was adopted, he didn’t say he was a completely different _species_.”

“We should get him inside,” Steve said over their arguing. “The last time the Hulk attacked him he wasn’t in such bad shape afterwards.”

Stark’s throat moved in a rough swallow. “So getting tortured for two years straight takes a lot out of you, who knew?”

“I will take him,” Thor said, but a sheet of ice immediately spread over the ground towards his boots, forcing him to pause. 

Bucky distantly realized his breathing had gotten heavy. “And do what,” he asked, a hoarse edge to his voice. “We told you no doctors.”

Some kind of switch flipped on Thor’s face, his gaze filled with a frustrated sadness as he looked at Loki. “Loki is my brother,” he said. “You have my thanks for being his ally. But I will need to take him if he is to have proper healing.”

Bucky looked between the other Avengers, all too aware that there was no point in trying to run. He had to give some kind of ground. If any of them touched him, they were going to get hurt. Or worse.

“Watch the ice,” Bucky ordered, lifting his hand reluctantly from Loki’s chest. “And his skin. It’ll burn you.”

“I have plenty of experience with ki-” Thor broke off, pressing his lips together before he tried again. “I will use care.”

Bucky backed off, unable to help the seize in his chest as Thor brought his arms beneath Loki, pulling his body up from the ground as easily as if he were a child. But the look on Thor’s face, deeply angry, and looking like he’d hammer in the face of anyone who even tried to stare at Loki the wrong way, meant that Bucky didn’t completely panic about letting it happen.

He followed a few steps behind, all too aware of the armed Avengers around him not quite standing down as he passed each of them. Stark gave an exclamation at the cold wafting off of him, but other than that, no one commented.

Bucky’s head was doing somersaults as all of the same arguments he’d given Loki about the safety of dealing with the Avengers refused to convince even him now that they were down to it. Of course, he hadn’t expected their entrance to be anything like this. Would have never in a million years agreed to have their entrance be like this.

He wondered if part of the reason Loki had done this was some sort of punishment, a giant I Told You So directed in Bucky’s direction. With neon lights. 

That level of pettiness seemed like a bit much, even for Loki. 

Back in the compound, Wilson rushed to get a blanket to put over a long couch, giving orders to Steve for retrieving supplies. Thor gently lowered Loki down on top of it, arranging his legs so they were stretched out. The ice was still supporting Loki’s neck and back, keeping him from moving too much throughout the handling and risking further injury.

“We should get him out of these so we can see the damage,” Wilson said, indicating the ice and Loki’s armor. “Barnes.”

Bucky stared.

From behind him, he heard Stark murmur. “Little slow on the uptake, isn’t he?”

Wilson looked at Bucky, noticed he wasn’t moving, then rolled his eyes in exasperation. “You just gonna stand there, or are you going to make sure I don’t end up with deep frostbite while we do this?”

Bucky took a cautious step forward, forcing his full attention on Loki. The bleeding looked like it had slowed, either from the ice or his healing kicking in. Bucky could still see the spreading bruises on his skin, and knew that there was worse beneath his armor.

He reached his hand over the ice conforming over Loki’s torso, all too aware of Thor’s severe gaze as he did. He carefully kept his left arm positioned between him and the rest of the Avengers.

The ice crunched easily beneath his hand, falling in shards to the couch. So did most of the metal Loki was wearing beneath it, unable to withstand the cold mixed with the pressure. Bucky left the ice around Loki’s neck while he unclasped the parts of his armor that hadn’t been completely destroyed. 

“That’s it,” Wilson said while Bucky worked. He kept his tone firm as he carefully watched Bucky’s movements. “Keep everything in alignment.”

Loki’s outfit was ridiculously complicated. Bucky only spent a few more seconds fumbling through its disassembly before he started to really consider just freezing the rest of it to pieces. Thor’s approach was the only thing that stopped him.

“Let me,” Thor said, and Bucky nodded and moved aside to give him room. Together, they managed to find the spots to unclasp the armor enough that they were able to carefully pull it from Loki’s torso.

Loki’s chest was a spectacularly dark shade in between the discoloration of the older scars, a fact made more obvious as his bare skin began to shift back into a pale tone. Branching tendrils from lightning swirled around in layered fractals over precise surgical marks. The site where the Hulk had focused his rage was like spilled paint across ribs and abdomen.

He wasn’t completely skeletal like he’d been when Bucky had pulled him out of HYDRA’s basement, but that was a distant comfort. And Bucky wasn’t sure how much the positiveness of that image was caused by distension from internal bleeding.

In any case, it was going to take a while before he was healthy enough to wake up. Bucky had some shaky timeframes in his head from when HYDRA used to tear Loki open and not give a crap about how soon they were going to stitch him back together, and he used those to keep himself distanced from what would otherwise look to him like fatal damage.

Because in all reality this wasn’t actually anywhere near the worst that Loki had been through. 

Which meant Bucky could get back to his other pressing issue - which was the fact that he was unarmed, alone, and in the midst of the Avengers. He could see most of them tighten up when he turned to face them.

He waited in silence for the other shoe to fall.

Steve was the first to speak. “How long have you and Loki been here?” 

Bucky swallowed, unable to help the way he carefully tracked their reactions to what he was about to say. “We didn’t leave. Loki was hiding us with a glamor.”

Looks of alarm crossed all of their faces. Bucky knew that, realistically, the Avengers wouldn’t just start beating on someone who was being nonviolent - or unconscious - but he couldn’t help clenching his stomach muscles and widening his stance.

“Well, can’t say I didn’t call that,” Barton said under his breath, with a pointed glance towards Romanoff. 

Bucky narrowed his eyes, forcing himself to keep his hands loose. “We had to know that the rest of you weren’t just going to try to kill us. Or worse.”

The frown lines on Steve’s head deepened, eyes forlorn at Bucky’s admission. “We wouldn’t.”

“Not on purpose, maybe,” Bucky said.

“I might have done it on purpose,” Barton said wryly, his knuckles pressing against skin as he tightened his grip on his bow.

Bucky sized Barton up for half a second before noting the resigned slump to his shoulders. Like he was trying to keep his anger but failing now that he seemed to realize that Loki wasn’t going to wake up any time soon. 

Which meant Loki wasn’t in immediate danger from that area. Not that he really would be, what with Thor refusing to leave the side of the couch. 

“That’s why Loki let the Hulk beat the shit out of him,” Bucky said. He hated what Loki had done to himself, but now that they were here, he might as well take the expedient route and use it. “He said it was a present for you.”

Barton twitched, his incredulous eyes going to where Loki was laying limp against the cushions. 

Banner’s did, too. He gave a chagrined grimace and brought his hand to his face. 

“Jesus Christ,” Stark muttered, his eyes skating away from Loki’s body. “Well, he did it, he’s officially made me feel sorry for him. I can’t even be mad at the fact that I know it’s a flagrant manipulation. Letting the Hulk pound through every bone in his rib cage was overkill, but we already knew he had a flair for the dramatics.”

“Dramatics,” Wilson repeated, voice flat. “He’s probably going to need major surgery for blunt chest injuries, and you’re calling that dramatics.”

Banner made a choking noise into his palm. “I should...probably step out,” he said, and left in a hurry.

That was one less threat to worry about. “You can’t perform surgery on him,” Bucky said. 

Wilson scowled at him. “What, are you his legal guardian? Dude’s one giant bruise of internal hemorrhaging, and that’s only what we’ve seen on the surface.”

“He’ll recover.” 

“Well, aren’t you a swell pal,” Stark sarcastically said. 

Bucky didn’t back down. “He’s an enhanced alien. He’s not going to react the same to anesthetics geared for humans, and he won’t die from the same injuries.”

Stark’s voice went a little sharper. “Guess you’d know all about those, wouldn’t you. Being HYDRA’s top go-getter.”

Bucky felt his chest tighten, but he didn’t argue the point, or react in the way he knew Stark was fishing for. They were testing his responses just as much as he was testing theirs.

“He wasn’t,” Steve said. “He didn’t want to do any of it. That’s why they’re here now.”

Bucky felt a swirl of something ugly congeal in his gut, because he knew damn well there had been more than enough days of wanting, even sometimes when he’d been confused enough to question his place. He’d always been a loaded gun, he thought - HYDRA had just pointed him in the wrong direction.

“Bucky Barnes is right,” Thor said, too focused on Loki to note the tension among them. “It would take time for your doctors to develop a formula that would successfully keep Loki senseless and pain free. He should return with me to Asgard for treatment.”

The room’s temperature dropped to frigid in a second. Bucky only just barely kept himself from breaking out into icicle spikes. “No,” he said, voice low, immediately wondering if he’d just fucked up by letting Thor in so close to Loki. 

Stark frowned, squinting, before his eyes widened. “Are you...growing _fangs_?”

Romanoff furrowed her brow, her arms folded tightly. Her stance was relaxed, but Bucky could tell she was keeping one of her shock discs clasped in the palm of her hand. “Why is it so important to you that Loki stays here?” 

Steve sighed. “Because they still feel like they’re in enemy territory.”

“Aren’t they?” Stark asked.

Thor was noticing the animosity now, and his confusion about it was plain on his face. “I thought we had agreed to allow them to join the Avengers.” 

Stark raised his eyebrows in an ‘are you kidding me’ expression. “Yeah, that? Was _before_ I knew Loki could just Big Brother in on us whenever he wants without us knowing he’s even _in the room_.”

Thor moved to his feet, mirroring Bucky’s defensive stance. “We already told you he had the Tesseract. What new information has been given?”

Stark raised his arm. “Show of hands, who’s showered since they very incredibly did not leave at 6 AM this morning?”

Barton was bristling like a cat, his glare directing to Thor. “Join the Avengers? You’re serious?” When there was hesitation in any kind of response he nodded, his eyes rolling upwards. A strangled noise of anger punched from his throat. “Of course you’re serious.”

“All of that seems like we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves,” Wilson said, getting to his feet at Bucky’s side. “Seeing as it looks like Loki’s not going to be fit for active duty until he’s finished a whole lot of medical care and physical therapy.”

“Clint,” Thor said, keeping a hold on the subject like a rottweiler with a bone. “I know Loki has wronged you. But those memories are no longer in his mind.”

“Lucky him,” Barton said dismissively. He turned his gaze on Bucky. “So you’re his buddy, huh? The winning recipient in the Asshole of the Year genes giveaway contest. The one that survived.” He jerked his chin, his eyes narrowing. “Why are you really hanging off his coattails? Any funny feelings of dedication?” A trembling chord laced around the words. “Your brain stuffed like taffy because everything you used to want was turned inside out?”

Bucky’s clamoring emotions finally snapped. He moved quickly, ignoring their assorted defensive poses as he stalked around the couch. In the ruins of the table smashed by the Hulk he found the storage drive given to them by Fury. He picked it up and stabbed the USB into an unbroken slot in the table. He watched the projection rise in the center of it, disjointed and angled oddly from the destruction. 

It was still readable. He looked for the right file and timestamp. 

He started talking, careful not to look at any of them and to leave out exact details. “When they injected me with the serum they made from Loki, I didn’t know what the hell was going on. I started hearing things. Every day. Including when they tried to put me under in cryo. Sometimes there’d be breaks in the noise, but not much. Even after they wiped me, I knew I’d heard it before. That I’d been hearing it for a long time.”

He pressed play.

Loki’s screams were muffled from the muzzle and distorted from the brassy crackling audio of the table’s damaged speakers. That still couldn’t hide the sound of pure agony contained in them. The pitches and intensities of the actual noise varied, but Bucky knew from experience that the emotions and thoughts going on inside that head didn’t change much. Especially when the pain was at its worst.

The HYDRA scientists spoke to each other over Loki, talking casually about their days, their plans with families and friends. They even joked with each other as they cut and scraped and suctioned more cells to use for their serum. Loki was just a subject, left completely ignored beyond what they could take from him. And they could take a lot, for hours and hours, again and again.

It was a vivisection performed by rote at this point. A checklist of routine tasks done with unconscious competence.

Stark started to look a lot green beneath the rage that painted his face. He swallowed convulsively, the first to avert his eyes. The others kept their gazes on the projection for a bit longer.

Bucky hated that he had to be near this goddamn video again, but they had to understand, and he knew Loki wasn’t going to be as straightforward with it when he woke up. “Sometimes they got everything they needed well before the workweek ended. That’s when the drinks would come out, and they’d just...play with him. Have a good time, because he was so durable it didn’t really matter what they did. Or how sober they were when they did it.”

He let that hang in the air, giving each of them time to draw their own conclusions. On the video, Loki’s screams had died down into a series of soft noises torn raggedly from his throat. The reprieve only lasted for a few seconds before the scientists dug in deeper, making him howl and shake in his restraints.

Thor had come closer to better view the image. He was nearly trembling with rage, lightning sparking the edges of his hammer. Like he wanted to pound it into the table until there was nothing left. Steve was moving his gaze from the feed to Bucky, looking like someone had just torn his heart out. Wilson’s expression was filled with terrified disgust. Even Romanoff wasn’t unaffected, something raw shining deep in her eyes as she watched the footage.

“That’s why we needed to know,” Bucky said, keeping his voice carefully flat. “Because the last time you beat him, this is where he spent the next two years. And that’s why he didn’t think twice about suffering a beat down from the Hulk if it meant convincing you.”

Barton’s eyelids finally fluttered. “Turn it off.”

Bucky gladly stopped the feed. The servomechanisms in his arm were going full tilt as his brain longed for something to punch. Someone to kill. He was going to really miss the satisfaction that came with hunting down and clearing out HYDRA agents.

Barton cleared his throat and looked him dead in the eyes. “All right, next question. You believe him? About this whole mysterious force waiting to descend on us?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah.”

Barton nodded back, then let out a short laugh. “Well, shit,” he said, an uneven edge of hysteria to his voice. “That’s really great. Isn’t that great, guys?”

Romanoff was watching him in concern. “You think he’s right.”

Barton’s response was more of an explosive exhale than a word. “Yeah.” He still looked like the world had just told him a hilarious joke. “Yeah. I think I do.”

Bucky brushed his mind up against Loki’s, thinking through the grey static even though Loki was a hundred percent too far gone to notice anything. _We got Barton._

\----------

Loki was given a room with minimal furnishings, and placed on a high tech hospital bed while he recovered. Bucky and Thor had jointly taken up the task of bandaging what they could, and Wilson helped hook up the IV so they could make sure he had fluids and nutrients. Stark had brought in some sort of padded metallic brace, and Bucky had reluctantly let it be used to replace the ice around Loki’s neck.

But he’d been careful to make it clear that Stark wasn’t allowed near Loki with his scanning technology, even though there was every likelihood he’d already gotten information from Loki’s body when he’d been in the suit. Stark had compromised by asking permission to call one of the higher end doctors that regularly worked with them, just to get her opinion.

Even that concession had made Bucky’s skin crawl a little, but he knew when to pick his battles. The Avengers were starting to look at him like he was a danger to Loki instead of the one who’d spent the last several months following him. Like he was being unreasonable when he foresaw the worst case scenarios of what would happen when someone else got their hands on Loki’s blood, even though he was living proof.

And now Thor was gone. He’d hurried back to Asgard to tell them about Loki’s warning once he was sure his brother would be safe, with promises to smuggle back some god-level medication for when Loki was awake. 

Bucky was surprised how disappointed he was about Thor’s absence. His presence there looming over Loki had taken some of the edge off of Bucky’s own vigilance.

But now that the worst of the whirlwind of stress was over, he managed to loosen up on some of his paranoia and circle back to his original opinion of the outcome of their contacting the Avengers. Loki had all but forced them into the shittiest possible version of it, and they still hadn’t ended up dead or caged, so that was something.

Still, if the Hulk hadn’t already more than done it for him, Bucky probably would have had no compunctions about giving Loki a few extra bruises for being so careless.

Now Bucky was alone, in a chair next to Loki’s bed. Barton and Romanoff had made themselves scarce as soon as Loki had been moved, and Banner hadn’t made a reappearance. Wilson and Steve had stayed with him for a couple of hours, before retiring to their beds. Or that was the excuse the two of them had given. Bucky was fairly sure what they’d really done was give themselves some privacy to discuss the situation without him listening in on it.

There weren’t any guards posted at the door, but Bucky had already clocked about five cameras. There hadn’t been any in Steve’s bedroom, or the lounge, which meant they’d been intentionally placed in an area with equipment to monitor them. Bucky didn’t blame them for that, but if they were looking at long term hospital rest in this room, he was definitely going to get around to finding and destroying every piece of surveillance equipment he could find.

Staying at Loki’s bedside while he was unconscious felt almost like a return to form, except now Bucky wasn’t running anymore. But the itch to to tactically change locations to avoid discovery was deeply ingrained. His brain kept telling him how dangerous it was for him to be known. 

And the compound was full of wide open spaces, huge floor-to-ceiling windows that let natural light pour in without hindrance. Anyone could have walked by it and seen Loki and Bucky loose, clear as day. Or night, in this case.

The alternative choice had been that they get stored somewhere in one of the sub-levels. That would have been worse.

Bucky spent over an hour glowering at the windows and wringing his hands before finally lurching to his feet and approaching them. He put his hand out, intending to see if he could texture the glass with ice enough to block the view inside. White crystals spread outwards, drifting up in an even coating.

Then the windows shattered. Loudly.

Bucky stepped back, nostrils flaring. It wasn’t like it made much of a difference.

He heard running footsteps before Steve arrived. Wilson was behind him. They took in the wreckage of shards over the floor. Neither of them were dressed in any kind of sleepwear, which only confirmed Bucky’s suspicions that they hadn’t been planning on sleeping.

Steve let out a breath of relief once he saw that Bucky and Loki were okay. “What happened?”

“I broke the window,” Bucky said, as if it wasn’t obvious. He crouched, and touched his hand to the grass directly outside the room. A spike of ice erupted up, about five feet tall. He dug his fingers into the dirt, and pushed the cold out of him. It went taller, thicker, and then more lined up alongside it. Finally satisfied that the opening was blocked off, he rose back to his feet.

Wilson and Steve were staring at him.

“What,” he asked.

“Do you do that a lot?” Wilson asked.

Bucky looked at the blocked window. He shrugged. “Not usually on purpose.”

Stark’s quick steps signaled his belated arrival to check on the chaos. He took one look at the wall of ice spikes, then rolled his eyes. “I don’t even know why I bother,” he said. “Elsa, if you could lay off the ice castles. The compound has lockdown protocols in case you want privacy.”

Steve turned to Stark. “What did Doctor Cho say?”

Stark sent a look to where Loki was laying like death on the bed. “Pretty much what we expected - based on the things Loki’s apparently already survived going through with HYDRA, she thinks there’s about a ninety seven percent chance he doesn’t kick the bucket. But he’d probably heal up a lot faster if we had some way to give him a blood transfusion. Unfortunately, we can’t exactly just extract from a human donor.” Stark looked towards Bucky, just a flit of his eyes before he looked away.

Bucky got the hint. He stiffened.

“He’s going to stay alive,” Steve said. “That’s good news.”

“Yeah, but in what state,” Wilson asked, folding his arms. “The guy’s obviously not invulnerable. He didn’t look like he was in any condition to take those hits in the first place.”

Stark gave a tight smile. “Which is why it would help if we had some cell support from, say, I don’t know, someone conveniently located in the room who had a similar blood type.” He gave Bucky another, more pointed look, before he turned away again.

Bucky’s pulse was racing, adrenaline burning down his veins. Frost formed a thin layer over his skin. Sometimes he wondered if it was a normal response in whatever species Loki was or if it was some kind of warped reaction to the still-human part of him trying to sweat on a body with a severely lowered body temperature.

Steve shook his head. “We can’t force him, Tony.”

Stark exhaled heavily. “Yeah, I know. But it’s going to be a process before we can figure out if Loki even knows anything remotely useful. And maybe we don’t have time to wait days for him to wake up.” Stark swallowed, his eyes large on his face. “If whatever out there shows up, there’s no guarantee we won’t get our asses handed to us next time.”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” Wilson said. “But Barnes just took out a wall of ballistic glass without even trying. Even if he agreed, normal med kits aren’t going to cut it.”

“I’m giving you a B for the pun, and an F for your astonishing lack of faith. Maybe it’d take some fine tuning, but all I’d need to do is go have another conversation with Miss Doctor Cho, maybe organize a visit-”

Bucky had Stark’s shirt clamped in the grasp of his prosthetic before he could blink, slamming him roughly into the wall. “I said _no fucking doctors_,” he snarled. 

“Buck-”

“Hey, get _off_ him, man-”

“Short fuse there,” Stark said, clearly nervous as his eyes darted to the ice creeping over the metal and towards his body. He was smart, he knew exactly what would happen if it touched him. And whatever technology he could call up might not be fast enough to stop it.

Bucky was breathing hard, heart pounding and his skin crawling, suddenly wishing he hadn’t blocked up such an easy exit. He couldn’t even lie to himself that it was just Loki’s fear he was feeling, because Loki wasn’t awake to think anything right now.

He glared at Stark, tightening his grip on his shirt. “No doctors,” he repeated.

Steve was at Bucky’s side, looking between them with tension but at least not stupid enough at this point to try to haul them apart. “No doctors,” he said. “We’ll figure something else out. You can let him go, Buck.” 

Bucky quickly released Stark and retreated back towards Loki. He wondered if that had been disappointment in Steve’s voice. Then he decided viciously that he didn’t give a fuck even if that was the case. He’d drawn the line first thing. If he gave in on this, they’d start thinking they could do more and more. Take liberties. Try to convince Bucky it was all for the _greater good._

He was going to be letting Loki absolutely _have it_ for putting him in this position when the bastard woke up.

_When_, not _if._

Stark approached the bed, raising his hands when Bucky felt something deep and furious form a sound in his lungs. 

“Tony,” Steve admonished.

“I’m just going to talk to him,” Stark assured, before addressing Bucky. “Maybe I came off a little heavy-handed, you know, because I might be a little stressed about the condition of your buddy over there.”

“He’ll heal,” Bucky said, furious that he had to repeat himself. 

“I know, he’ll heal, and you’re obviously still swimming in some completely unnamed river in Egypt because if you _weren’t_, you’d’ve absorbed what Mr. Wilson said earlier and you’d know that _that_-” Stark pointed emphatically to the bed behind Bucky. “-is not what a person who’s just going to bounce back looks like. And even as much of an asshole as Loki is, I’m probably going to lose my goddamn mind if I don’t at least try to help the smallest bit to fix what we did by letting SHIELD get their hands on him.”

“Stark, you didn’t know what would happen,” Wilson said, expression creased with concern.

“Hearing you,” Stark answered with false flippancy. “Not making me feel better. And I’ll bet our esteemed leader, your old pal that’s been apparently looking for you through hell and high water, feels the exact same way.”

Bucky looked towards Steve, who was frowning at Stark, but didn’t argue. When he met Bucky’s eyes, a sigh expanded his chest.

“So what’ll it be?” Stark spread his hands, indicating his lack of threat. A smile quirked his mouth. “I’m open to suggestions. Let’s have a brainstorming session.”

“You don’t touch him,” Bucky repeated, tone still brooking no argument. He glanced up at Steve and Wilson briefly and away. “Any of you.”

“We won’t,” Steve assured. “We just want to figure out what we can do that you’re comfortable with.”

“I wasn’t done,” Bucky gritted out. The room was becoming a fucking furnace; he sucked in a breath that felt like it seared all the way down his throat. “I can draw my own blood.”

Stark clapped his hands in instant excitement. “Okay, _good_, now-”

“I still wasn’t done,” Bucky snarled. “I’ll try whatever tech you bring in, but it has to be for donation and transfusion purposes only. No scanning, no samples. You don’t walk away with a single fucking blood cell.”

Stark didn’t argue, pressing a hand to his chest while raising the other. “Got it. Scout’s honor.”

\-----------

It took a long time. 

The problem wasn’t so much in Bucky’s skin as it was in his head. Each time he tried to press a needle against himself the surge of stress caused catastrophic damage to the equipment. Stark stopped passive-aggressively muttering about having someone “professionally qualified” try things out when Bucky shattered his fifth attempt at a needle that would work.

As the night stretched on, Bucky deteriorated to the point that every other device didn’t even make it a second pressed into his hand before it crumbled. Stark was out of the room, already having been barked at by Bucky to go make something stronger. 

“Why don’t we take a break,” Wilson said, outfitted in thick clothes to combat the chill in the room. Stark had turned the thermostat down to freezing to help Bucky’s comfort and see if that would stop him from overproducing ice. “Come back to it when you’re not as worked up.”

Bucky ground his jaw and reached for another syringe.

“Or just keep going, that’s cool, too,” Wilson muttered, before hiding his nose and mouth behind a thick, plush cloth. 

Steve came in a few minutes later, outfitted in his Captain America armor, which Bucky supposed must have had some sort of temperature regulating material. “Tony’s trying to call in some favors for better materials.”

“It’s not the materials,” Bucky ground out, throwing the next failed attempt at venipuncture against the floor and watching it shatter.

Steve realized a moment later. “You don’t like needles.”

Bucky kept his gaze down and to the side.

“What is it about them?” Wilson asked, and now his voice had shifted from firm and sarcastic teases to compassion. “The shape? Maybe Stark can change the way they look so they don’t set you off as badly.”

His switch to a caring tone only pissed Bucky off more. “Wouldn’t matter, it still needs to get through to my blood,” he said. “And whatever space creature I was turned into has a fucking thorough defense mechanism.” 

“The guy they used to make it doesn’t seem to have the same problem,” Wilson noted. “Any clues as to why that is?”

“No,” Bucky answered. No, because Loki was a son of a bitch who didn’t _like_ thinking about what he was, even though there were only crumbs of that knowledge left. 

But the wheels were turning, now. Bucky knew that HYDRA hadn’t exactly known what they were doing when they’d changed him. Loki looked the same as him when he was cold enough, but otherwise kept himself fairly stable. And _he_ was able to come into physical contact with people without making their flesh blacken and die off.

How _did_ he keep things together?

Bucky stared down at his skin, hued deep blue, ridges curving down his forearm towards a hand ending in dark nails. He was used to it now, that disjointed feeling that came when he saw it. It was like the metal arm - effectively his, even though it really wasn’t.

He sighed, his gaze going back to Loki. 

Something stirred in his blood. 

Bucky blinked rapidly, startling as a huge sense of discomfort crashed over his skin in a wave, a prickling burn that intensified so fast that he flinched and withdrew from it with a sharp intake of breath. The feeling faded, though his skin tingled in the aftermath.

What the hell had that been?

Still somewhat shaken, Bucky looked at Loki again. The stir started to come back.

This time, he chased it, fighting through the flaring pain. The ice on his skin audibly crunched as it broke free and didn’t reform. His skin started to lighten, the ridges and lines receding.

The room chilled.

No, it wasn’t that. _He_ was warming up.

“Barnes? You hear me?”

“Buck.”

“Kind of busy here,” he answered, and now even his voice sounded lighter, his vocal chords smoothing out.

He kept his focus, even though he felt like he was going to slip back any second. It was like he was holding up a mountain that was trying to crash back down on him. He quickly reached for one of the needles, taking a second to steady his hand. He still jabbed it in a little too hard, but he managed not to puncture the vein all the way through. Then he sucked in a breath and just concentrated on keeping things steady.

Blood coursed down the tube. The bag at the other end began to fill.

Bucky taped the needle in place, hand clenched into a fist.

Thor returned just in time to see the tail end of it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to the Ferris wheel of longing and trauma that is this fic! Bucky and Loki have officially moved in to the Avengers Compound. As some problems start to fade, brand new ones begin.
> 
> It's...probably safe to say this fic is going to end up longer than I'd planned.

Bucky’s skin felt like it was on fire by the time he was done, but he managed to get the blood Loki needed before he lost his hold completely. His skin cracked back into blue, his ridges itching as they reformed. When he scraped his nails over them, a layer of his skin came off with a stinging pull. Like a peeling sunburn. 

Stark and Wilson set up the transfusion, isolating the needed cells from Bucky’s blood with detailed directions from the doctor Stark worked with. After he was dosed, Loki’s body stopped struggling so hard. Within minutes, the healing of his tissues sped, and the bruises on his torso visibly began to mottle with green at their edges. His breathing changed, grew less labored.

They still didn’t know when he’d eventually wake up. Bucky was offered a room where he could wait in the meantime. Down the hall, fully furnished and with the option to eventually redecorate it however he saw fit. 

“I mean that in the sense of actual furniture and electronic devices, by the way,” Stark said. “If you really feel the driving need to break the building and paint the walls with ice again, an igloo might be more appropriate.”

Bucky almost wanted to take it. He _should_ have taken it. It would have been a show of good faith to the people who were now offering both their time, money, and protection to a mutated ex-HYDRA assassin and their previous world-conqueror-aspiring nemesis.

But he had to make sure he was there when Loki woke up, to be there to ground him - at least until he was sure that Loki was done with the self-damaging tactics. 

_You’re going to be here until the end of time waiting for that,_ Bucky thought, resisting the urge to put his palm against his forehead. He felt so damn tired, but he knew he wouldn’t find sleep even if he tried. At the very least, not until they found the time to zip back to their safehouse to clear it of the supplies they’d left behind.

He did take a chair, positioning himself so he’d have lines of sight of Loki, the door, and the lingering wall of ice. Clear puddles were growing on the floor around the latter, the room’s temperature having been brought back to something a bit more livable for a human. 

Thor had given him an odd look when he’d seen the ice, but hadn’t commented on it. He spent his time directly next to his brother’s bed, his eyes locked onto the steady rise and fall of Loki’s chest. 

“It’s a waiting game, now,” Stark said. “Doctor Cho said fibrous tissue development is likely, but after what HYDRA already did to him it’ll be like the prick of a needle next to a stab wound.” He glanced at Bucky, voice terse. “Go ahead and give me a ring if you guys ever decide to let us try to help him become a halfway functional person again.” He left, shoulders stiff.

Steve stood beside Bucky - too close, like he always seemed to want to do, even though Bucky had just spent most of the night showing him what could happen to materials he came into direct contact with. “You all right?”

Bucky kept his eyes on Loki, reassuring himself of the easing breaths coming out of his chest. The padded brace at his neck was glinting under the ceiling lights. “It was just some blood.”

“Yeah, Cap, it was just some blood,” Wilson said, voice too bright. He was standing over a pile of the discarded protective layers he’d shed after the warming room had made them superfluous. “Easy peasy. Why would you even ask that?”

Bucky sent Wilson a look, and got a pair of eyebrows raised in return as Wilson pointedly pulled off the scarf that had still been wrapped around his neck before reaching down and pulling the rest of the clothes up and to his chest.

“I’m guessing you’re gonna stay in here,” Steve said, drawing his attention. 

_Where the hell else am I gonna go,_ Bucky thought. He didn’t bother answering.

A hand clamped over his shoulder, giving it a gentle but firm shake. Bucky’s instinctive horror-rage at the contact was immediately drowned in an overwhelming sense memory of what that touch meant, the friendship and trust that had once been behind it. He stared at Steve, and saw dozens of flashes zip through his thoughts like dogs on a racetrack. All of them were images of the same look he was being given now.

It was easier to handle than the shock on the Helicarrier, but Bucky was still getting used to the fact that his head sometimes just dropped intense and meaningful reminders like they were no goddamn deal. Like there wasn’t an ocean of bodies between him and what that look had used to mean. 

But Steve clearly didn’t give a shit, and Bucky was, at least in that moment, too damn tired to argue. He wasn’t injured - his body had been quick to heal over both the injuries he’d sustained from warping it out of shape and his encounter with the Hulk - but he’d been awake for days, and spent a lot of that time draining his adrenal reserves, before donating a not insubstantial amount of his blood to Loki.

He was still on edge. Still ready to fight the moment a real danger reared its head again. But just then, he didn’t want to pick one himself - either with Steve or that idiotic little voice inside him that was telling him to calm down. Stand down.

And, at the very least, when Steve took his hand back, he was able to do it without frost damage. 

\-----------

Bucky kept a vigil. He kept track of both the quantity and quality of Loki’s breaths, and mapped the progression of his visible bruises. He refreshed the ice that spanned the wall at sunrise, then caught himself staring for long moments at the red and pink flush that saturated it with the morning light. 

He wondered if this was how the rest of Loki’s race lived, surrounded by ice walls. If they ever watched the sunrise like this. Fuck, if they even _had_ sunrises.

The red eventually seeped into gold. Bucky retook his seat, staring down at his flesh hand - blue again, with an odd shine from the new cells coating formerly raw skin.

Thor stayed in a seat directly beside Loki, quietly brooding, his hammer resting its hilt against the chair legs. “I’ve thought Loki dead twice, now,” he said, his voice deep and strong in the quiet of the room. “When I released him into SHIELD custody, I had been so sure that wherever he was imprisoned, they would not have been able to devise tortures great enough to truly harm him.”

Bucky knew enough of Loki to figure that he’d probably thought the same thing, at least in the beginning. HYDRA were masters at getting what they wanted out of their captives, even the superhuman ones. Maybe especially them; being that much harder to kill usually just meant the torture could stretch out even longer before a subject expired.

“I thought it would only amount to a dull prison sentence,” Thor went on, unbothered by Bucky’s silence. “And that maybe when I eventually became king, I could overturn my father’s ruling and negotiate with Earth for his return home. I did not even think to look into it too carefully.” He shrugged, with a pained and rueful smile that disappeared as soon as it formed. “The Realms were in chaos. My brother hated me, and there was nothing I could do or say to sway him from his path. So I ignored him. Until it was too late.” Blue eyes turned on Bucky then, suddenly beseeching. “If he accused me, I would not blame him.”

The way he said, thick with meaning, made Bucky think this wasn’t the first situation in which Loki had blamed his brother for something major. 

If Thor was looking for anything like reassurance for what he’d done, he was asking the wrong person. “I don’t think he remembers you enough for that.”

“Right.” Thor breathed out, seemingly resigned to that answer. “Thank you, for helping him. The others mentioned how difficult you found the task.”

Difficult task was a good way to describe Loki sometimes. Bucky remembered being fresh out of the Vault, realizing everything HYDRA had been telling him was _wrong,_ and carrying the mostly-dead prisoner he’d found out of that basement at the risk of his own safety. He remembered using drugs to keep Loki from fighting him when they changed locations. Remembered when, stressed to the bone with withdrawal and ongoing mutations, his mind pressuring him hour in and hour out with the fact that keeping an injured body at his side was so tactically disadvantageous as to be suicide, he’d eventually laid Loki on a plastic tarp in the middle of nowhere and pressed a gun to his scarred forehead.

Of course, Bucky hadn’t done it. He’d been pissed at himself, but he’d bundled him back into his car and continued to put in the extra work to keep them both hidden and alive. 

And eventually, outside of a warehouse and standing over Bucky when he’d been almost sick out of his mind and riddled with taser slugs, Loki had returned the favor. 

So they’d worked together. They were a good team. But if there was a word that Bucky would use when describing his time since partnering with Loki, easy would be at the very bottom of that goddamn list.

Thor and Bucky both watched Loki as the morning stretched on. At some point, finally, Bucky felt it - vague impressions in his thoughts that weren’t his, followed by muffled sensations of confusion and pain.

Loki was starting to come back. 

Even without the scepter, Bucky could feel him straining towards awareness. Soon after that came the shock of fear at finding that his chest and abdomen felt like heavy stone plates had been crushed into them. It took concentration to keep them connected, to send signals of safety - the awareness brightened, and then he felt Loki’s confusion, quickly devolving into an urge to _move_ as he struggled to pull the rest of the way into consciousness to face what he thought was his current danger. 

Thor didn’t notice what was happening until the low sound of pain that came with it. “Loki?” He leaned his massive bulk over the bed, all but oblivious to the sudden stiffening of the body he was looking to comfort as it realized the presence of something large and powerful looming over it while it was so severely injured.

_It’s your brother,_ Bucky thought as he felt Loki’s animal panic threatening to rise completely, to drive him into a struggle that would just make his condition worse. _We’re still in the Avengers Compound. No active threats in the room. They took your bait, you fucking asshole._

A rush of relief flooded through their link as Loki remembered, but his body still quivered in pain and lingering trepidation when he pulled open his eyes. _I told you it would work,_ Loki thought back, then his hands spasmed at his sides as felt the pressure of the neck brace keeping him still. _Am I bound?_

He was terrified, but unsurprised. Which made Bucky’s weariness pull harder at him as he again was reminded of just how alone he was in this fight to keep them free. _No, it’s just added support. It’s keeping your bones in line while you heal from being a complete, goddamn-_

“Loki,” Thor breathed, interrupting Bucky’s silent rant before it could gain any traction. “You’re awake.” His hands pressed down on the blankets next to Loki’s body, like he wanted to touch but couldn’t figure out how to do it in a spot that wouldn’t cause heaps of pain. “Stay still. I will call someone.”

Loki’s answering flinch at the thought of more bodies standing around him was only a flicker on his face. “No,” Bucky said to Thor. “Don’t call anyone. He just needs some rest.”

Bucky had plenty of experience with that. Had known Loki when he was nothing but an emaciated and dessicated near-corpse with rheumy, star-scarred eyes, until trickles of moisture and eventually, food, brought it back into something that could sustain consciousness on its own, and could again utilize bruised and battered feral instinct to keep itself alive.

“Stark’s artificial intelligence system is connected with the room,” Thor said distractedly, and Bucky _really_ didn’t like hearing verbal confirmation of that. “He may already know.”

“Then keep him out,” Bucky said, voice raised to whatever monitoring equipment was positioned around them, in case Stark happened to be paying attention at that moment. 

“Not while Loki is yet in need of treatment,” Thor said, the first sparks of anger brimming in his eyes.

While Bucky and Thor argued, Loki’s eyes finally latched to the IV line connected to him. His breath caught raggedly in his throat, fingers twitching and then carefully pressing flat as he resisted the urge to tear it out by the skin of his teeth. _What effects do the drugs cause?_

_There’s no drugs,_ Bucky answered, torn between both interactions as Thor kept trying to insist on something to make the healing move even faster. _It’s just water and nutrients. I watched them mix it myself._

Loki hissed in a shallow breath, prodding back insistently at Bucky’s head until he opened himself with effort and gave him the image of the memory of Stark and Steve and Wilson standing around the bed. Bucky waited until Loki nervously noted the lack of anything nasty being pumped into him, then allowed himself to draw their minds back apart.

Just in time to see Loki brace his crushed body against the bed and try to shift himself into a sitting position. Thor paused in his argument and Bucky swore under his breath and up and down in his thoughts, but neither of them tried to intervene. Thor’s eyes widened in shock; all Bucky felt was knowing resignation as he clamped down harder to keep Loki out. 

The pain that had been already present became a distant cousin to the blast of fireworks set off through Loki’s nerve endings, bad enough that Loki almost abandoned the attempt within seconds, teeth bared on a choked off scream. But the more his body failed him, the more he fought against it.

“Be still, you might make it worse,” Thor said, putting his hands on Loki’s shoulders about twenty seconds too late. “Hulk broke your body quite thoroughly.”

Loki’s voice shook on its way out of him. “As the one currently residing in said body, I’d have to say that fact is perfectly obvious.”

The words were composed; beneath them, Loki’s thoughts swirled in vicious terror. _Can’t,_ they said. _Can’t, can’t, can’t-_

Bucky lurched to his feet, quickly pulling the pillow out from behind Loki and repositioning it upright against the wall at his back. He gestured for Thor to help Loki sit against it, which resulted in another muffled noise of agony before Loki was in place. 

When Loki had recovered enough, a cold relief pressed through their link, the swarming thoughts easing off. Loki’s scarred eyes flickered gratefully towards Bucky. 

He hadn’t wanted to be flat on his back in case anyone else came into the room.

“I thought you were going to bring something back for him,” Bucky said to Thor.

A bitter anger filled Thor’s face at the reminder. He looked to the side for a moment, a muscle in his jaw jumping. “I was forbidden to return to Earth with any healing stones,” he admitted.

“Why wouldn’t you be,” Loki said, fingers twitching at his sides as he struggled to keep the rest of himself still in an effort to get his screaming insides to quiet faster. “I am not Asgard’s problem any longer.”

Thor looked even more upset at that, but he didn’t fight the general statement. “Just rest,” he said, the words like an order. “Heal. You are under the protection of the Avengers, now.”

Loki closed his eyes, swallowing with difficulty. “Yes. Of course.”

Thor frowned a little at that response, but was soon preoccupied by looking down at Loki’s injuries from where the brilliant hue of his chest had slipped out from beneath the sheet. “The damage is still far too great.”

Bucky stood straighter, a new wariness filling him. “He’s come back from worse,” he carefully said. “You know he has.”

Loki’s alarm rose sharply again as his eyes shot open. _You are making too many demands. If we resist them, they might reconsider their tactics._

_And if you hadn’t let the Hulk lay you out flat, I’d be a lot more convinced of your ability to keep yourself out of danger._ Bucky felt his frustration mingle with his disgust. _They wanted to cut you open to fix you._

He felt the fizzle and spark that signalled Loki’s immediate withdrawal as memories and emotions overcame him. 

Thor noticed the response this time, and he reached out to clasp his hand against Loki’s face. Instead of fighting, though, Loki allowed the grip with a shaky intake of breath. Some of the wildness left his eyes as he stared back at his brother.

Because Loki wasn’t seeing Thor. The sense memory of Pierce was thrumming so hard through their connection that Bucky could almost smell the man’s cologne.

He tried to force his rage to overtake everything else. 

“Get your hands off him,” Bucky said, voice low. Frost started to coat his skin beneath his clothes.

“He is my brother,” Thor said, not sounding at all concerned with the threatening tone being directed at him or the fact that the temperature in the room was beginning to drop.

“Right now he doesn’t think you’re his,” Bucky said. “You’re touching him like the man who orchestrated his torture used to do.”

Thor’s eyes flashed, and his growing anger only made Loki withdraw further. “I am touching him like _I_ have always done. That’s hundreds of years against your two.”

Bucky glowered, muscles contracting. “Just because you want it bad enough doesn’t make it true.”

“You only think that because you have not properly met me yet,” Thor said, with challenging finality.

Not a threat, but a clear line in the sand that Thor would defend if Bucky attempted to cross it. He ground his jaw, knowing that he couldn’t reveal the truth of the mental connection between him and Loki but unsure of how to convince Thor to get the hell off of him without that revelation.

In the stretching silence, Loki visibly shuddered against the touch on his face, before going limp. “It’s all right,” he said, and Bucky felt the walls slam up between them, a barrier that stayed standing even when he tried to prod through. 

Which meant it sure as hell _wasn’t_ all right, but Loki was cutting Bucky off to prevent him from knowing how badly he suffered, like he always did. Like they hadn’t already known each other at their worst, and before they’d even met face to face. Like Bucky wasn’t just trying his damnedest to keep anything like that from happening again.

He exhaled, directing his gaze to the floor. It was the physical damage that mattered, he tried to tell himself. Thor wouldn’t _physically_ hurt Loki. And as long as Loki didn’t fuck _himself_ up anymore than he already was, he’d get his health back. He wouldn’t be in so much pain. Then the mental stuff, the associations and terror that came with it, could ease off. 

A doubtful voice sounded in Bucky’s head. _Except the mental stuff is what caused this physical damage in the first place, Barnes._

“Fine,” he said, and moved to the door. If he stayed here much longer he was going to get encouraged to start a fight he wouldn’t win. “I’ll watch the damn door.”

\---------

The hand against his face was warm and kind, and spoke of a friendly intimacy between him and its owner. Loki’s muscles surrendered in a learned response even as his heart moved at a frenzied gallop.

He tried to tell himself the truth of the situation, but though his vision seemed to have improved in his time unconscious, that hand was telling him that he was somewhere else.

_“It’s time for us to have another conversation,”_ it said.

_“If I like what you have to say, I could consider giving you some time off from the experiments,”_ it offered.

Then, as Loki felt the anger on the air thicken around him, kindness gave way to threats. _“Resist again, and you’ll stay on the table for months before I even entertain the thought of extending my hand to revisit our discussion. And don’t think I’m not well aware of my workers’, shall we say, extraneous activities. As long as it doesn’t affect the required quota of samples and data, they can stuff you with candy and use you as a piñata for all I care.”_

Loki was able to diffuse the situation with the symbolic baring of his throat. Once Bucky left the room, a large portion of the fury faded from the air, and Loki was once more able to claw his way at least partially out of the suffering of his mind. He met Thor’s eyes, nervous for the remaining anger he could see in them. 

Thor had wholeheartedly agreed to Loki’s alliance. But Loki had now spied upon him without his knowledge, and then indirectly caused him injury by unleashing the Hulk. The only reason his fear remained less than absolute in the position he found himself now was because Bucky’s steady impression of Thor had been that, despite their argument, he was a worthy protector and not likely to cause Loki further physical harm.

“Are you speaking the truth?” Loki asked, straining his eyes in an attempt to better see the details on his brother’s face.

Thor looked pleased with Loki’s address for half a moment before his frown returned. “About what?”

“Your touch,” Loki said, indicating the palm pressed against his cheek with some wariness. “Was this common in our interactions?”

The crease to Thor’s forehead deepened. When he spoke it was clear he was trying to cover a great pain. “You really do not remember.”

Loki decided that he had experienced rather enough agony for the moment, and so he did not mockingly point out that Thor was still holding far too many expectations for what was left of the ruined contents of his mind. “I am afraid I recall only...being caressed as if I were a prized pet. HYDRA’s leader was of a tactile sort.”

Thor’s expression contorted in rage all the same. “If he were not dead already, I would remove his head from his shoulders.”

Loki made a noncommittal noise in his throat. He did not have much rage in him for Alexander Pierce in terms of personal grievances against the man himself. He was the compass needle that directed those that directly bloodied their hands with Loki’s body, but that meant he was also the sole provider of Loki’s relief over the years he’d been captive. The knowledge of the fact that it had all been an act merely meant to persuade Loki’s behavior, that the might of the scepter had smoothed the edges of his emotions when they drove thoughts of rebellion and violence, did not change what he felt.

He knew he should be ashamed of it. But it had not been Pierce’s face that haunted his darkest nightmares, of the times when unrelenting agony had been distributed upon his person. 

“Did he,” Thor said, then immediately trailed off, swallowing harshly. The rage was returning to his expression with full force.

Loki felt a stir of worry, anticipation of the signals of lightning he knew would soon begin. Even if Thor would not truly hurt him at that moment, the thought of those signals being sent through his poor senses sent dread sinking in his guts like a boulder.

But neither could he stand Thor’s simmering anger. The anticipation before the torment was never easy to endure. He’d rather stir it to its fullest extent quickly, if it was to come at all. “Did he what,” he asked, voice carefully flat.

Thor looked suddenly hesitant. But his muscles corded, stiffening so sharply that he nearly trembled with it. “Nothing,” he answered, rising from his chair. “It is nothing. You should eat something.”

“Ah,” Loki said, drawing Thor’s attention before he could move too far. “I may lack the necessary...stability, for solid food, at the moment.” Off Thor’s look, he presented a bitter smile. “One grows intimately aware of exactly where and what condition every organ is in after having each of them repeatedly eviscerated.”

Again came that flare of ire in his brother’s eyes. “You cannot simply go without,” Thor said, with full certainty. “I will speak with Stark. They have all manner of food here for when one of us returns injured-”

“Thor,” Loki interrupted, a spark of irritation forming despite his wariness. “It’s finished. As Bucky said, I only need time.”

“Yes,” Thor said, “and you’d need less time if you had more substantial nutrients.”

Loki felt his own fury rise, and coupled with the fear attached it finally drove him to push back. “And I’ll need _more_ if you insist on any food or procedures that will leave me vomiting on the floor.”

_Now, now,_ a voice in his mind that was not his own said. _I’ll give you a moment to collect yourself. Then we can try again._

It sent a spear of ice through his innards - but there would be no emotional augmentation, subtle and venomous, that would follow the words this time. No horror to know that his behavior had earned him additional torture that could have been avoided.

Loki owned the scepter. The Avengers had not wrested it from him yet. 

His anger was free to exist. To grow.

But the thought of allowing it to do so still sent a shudder down his back. There were still hooks in his thoughts, warnings for his safety. They pulled at him gently for now, but he knew it would only take a moment for them to yank and shred through his tenuous faculties. 

Cooperation gained rest and relief, however slight. 

Anger was dangerous, whether within him or from someone else. Anger was what had led to his being punished in the first place. What would lead to it again, if he was not careful.

The thrill of fear at the thought was dizzying. Any irritation he felt fled in haste, unable to occupy any space beside his terror. He attempted to control his body’s outward responses to it, with some success, but at the expense of his limited energy. 

“My apologies,” Loki said, grimacing as the pain in his injuries flared brighter in the wake of his fight or flight response. “I know...you are only trying to help.”

Thor watched him, hands clenched. He directed his gaze briefly to the door, before he returned to his seat at Loki’s side. “There must be something more we can do,” he said, ever adamant. Loki felt a simultaneous brimming exultation at his display of care while at the same time directing the very first thoughts of sympathy towards his past self for having to deal with such stubborn oafishness.

“You have already done something,” Loki said, allowing the pillow behind him to take his full weight. _Display adequate gratefulness,_ he thought. _Your life is in their hands. Be worthy of kindness._ “You allowed me to come here.”

Thor stared wordlessly, his brow drawn low.

“I am fine,” Loki said. “Truly. I only need...a day or two, before I will be willing to risk further insult to my injuries.”

A great sigh came forth. Thor’s brow softened, though his gaze grew no less intense. He leaned nearer to Loki again, carefully replacing his hand against the side of his head. “Know this, brother,” he said. “Even if you do not remember it, this contact dates back centuries. From people who loved you and did not seek to harm you.”

Such a fantastical image. It painted a picture of a man who’d possibly already had all the affection and care he could have ever desired.

Perhaps he had. If his past self had squandered that, too, then Loki thought he could hate him a little more. He should have been grateful for what he’d had. He should have realized how fortunate he was to not be required to crawl on his belly to beg for forgiveness.

_The love was a lie,_ some part of him said, but Loki pushed it away. If Thor had desired to hurt him, he would not lie to him about this. He would simply hurt him. Easily. 

“One thing,” Loki said. “You said...people.” He licked his lips. “Of what people do you speak?”

Thor’s face fell. “Several. Our mother, for one.”

“Our mother,” Loki repeated, trying and failing to search his faulty mind for hints of truth in that statement. “She adopted me.”

“She did more than that,” Thor insisted. “I...I’m not proud of it, but I always suspected you were her favorite. She was always teaching you magic. Making jokes at my expense. But she loved both of us.”

“Loved,” Loki said, watching the way Thor nearly flinched at the word. “Not love.”

“Yes,” he repeated. “I am sorry, Loki, but she died defending J...defending Asgard from an attack.”

“Ah,” Loki said, again. The woman described was someone who had, according to Thor, apparently cared for Loki with all of her heart. And now even as he learned of her, he learned that she was lost to death just as much as she was lost to the ruined channels of his damaged mind; her love replaced by lightning.

“Nothing?” Thor asked, something in his eyes going nakedly desperate.

With the neck brace in place, Loki could not shake his head. But it seemed his silence was answer enough, as Thor suddenly gripped at the blankets resting over Loki’s waist.

“No,” Thor said, his desperation replaced by heat. Loki had to choke back the sound that wanted to escape when Thor jarred him too roughly as he brought their faces close. “You know her. Her name was Frigga. She had blue eyes. Honey-colored hair. You used to call her elegance incarnate when you were trying to ingratiate her.”

Loki swallowed, his wariness returning at Thor’s furiously insistent words, but even then he could note that their edges were dulled by grief. 

“She gifted you your very first knife,” Thor said, fingers curled around the back of Loki’s head as if he could inspire his belief through contact. “You stabbed me with it two months later.”

Loki tried to remember, to parse through his faded thoughts of Asgard. Partly from his growing nervousness, and partly because he had curiosity and longing enough to have some experience of the picture Thor painted. 

The failure in the attempt was not surprising. Loki thought he should have been used to feeling so unbalanced by what he’d lost by now. “I am sorry,” he said, because he felt he must. 

And perhaps he should have been relieved that he didn’t remember her. Judging from the clear display of ache that was crossing Thor’s face, visible even through his ruined sight, that was simply one more unpleasant emotion he did not have to endure.

\------------

Bucky stayed firmly outside of Loki’s room, even when the lack of raised voices or sounds of struggle stretched on, forcing some of his tension to remove its iron grip. Loki didn’t drop the wall that was set up between them, and Bucky couldn’t bring himself to leave the area while it was still up.

Which was why he was there to see a bleary-eyed Barton crossing down the hall.

Barton froze as soon as he spotted Bucky, swearing. “You’re on this floor,” he said. “Of course you’re on this floor.” He glanced around cagily as if to reassure himself Loki wasn’t anywhere near, clenched his jaw, and determinedly kept going, passing Bucky with hurried steps. Then he just as quickly stopped in his tracks again, shoulders setting.

Bucky’s tension made a quick return as Barton whirled on his heel towards him. “All right, look,” he said. “It’s not a secret that I wanted to put an arrow through Loki’s throat. Really still kind of do. But at this point I just don’t feel like it would carry quite the same amount of insult to the crazy bastard considering how hard he just tried to take _himself_ out. I’m telling you this because - no offense, Barnes, but you really look like you could use a shower.”

Bucky frowned. He didn’t move. 

“Yeah, figured you weren’t going to go for that.” Barton sighed. “Okay, let’s pretend that I am going to try to kill him. You should know that I can get into that room about four different ways that don’t involve that door. So, if you really want him safe, you should follow me to make sure I don’t do that.”

“Five,” Bucky said. When all he was met with was a look of confusion, he added, “It’ll be five when the ice melts. If I’m not here to replace it.”

“Right,” Barton said, narrowed eyes going to the door in even more suspicious confusion. 

“I’m not under any kind of mind control,” Bucky said, suddenly needing it to be clear. “And I’m not an idiot.”

“Okay,” Barton said. “Glad we got that cleared up, man.” The silence stretched for a few more moments. “Is any of this going to lead into any sort of hygiene routine, or…”

“Water turns to ice as soon as it touches my skin,” Bucky said. “Showers don’t exactly agree with me.”

“Tough break,” Barton said. “Wait, do you freeze your food, too?”

Bucky nodded curtly. Even if he only used the metal arm to handle his food, the instant it touched his lips or tongue, it froze solid.

“Shit. How do you _eat?_”

“Usually with gloves, and lots of chewing,” Bucky said. 

Barton winced. “So I guess that means a cup of coffee’s out.”

Bucky didn’t answer - it was obvious enough. 

“You sleep, though, right? He’s-”

“I’m not being mind controlled,” Bucky repeated, voice going flatter.

“All right,” Barton said, in a way that made it clear he meant the opposite. “You say that. But I haven’t seen or heard you do one thing in your own self-interest since you got here. And that jackass in there already has Thor, who in case you didn’t notice, is the literal God of Thunder. Literal. You’re just surplus resources at this point.”

Bucky swallowed. He glanced towards the door.

“You can do what you want,” Barton said with a shrug. “But I happen to know Stark’s got most of the kitchens stocked with ice pop molds.”

Bucky felt parts of his own walls start to give way. He still wasn’t planning on sleeping any time soon - the Avengers Compound made his skin crawl way too much for that. But tactically, getting some food into him so he could have the energy he needed to stretch the functionality of his vigilance was a positive. 

“I can call Cap, if you’d prefer,” Barton said. “Though if you aren’t an idiot, you won’t prefer - all you’ll be getting is runny eggs and pancakes that are somehow overcooked and undercooked at the same time.”

Bucky felt something stir in his brain. A realization, something he’d already known, and now it popped up with full, clear certainty: Steve Rogers had been a fucking _terrible_ cook. And, apparently, still was.

He followed Barton. 

Later, in the kitchen, while Bucky was chewing on an ice pop made out of coffee, Stark wandered in. He took one look at Bucky, the discarded sticks on the table from the food he’d already consumed, and the dozens of bowls surrounding them with the assorted remaining recently frozen items. Bucky tensed, his jaw going still.

“Didn’t take you long to adopt him, did it,” Stark said dryly, gaze going to Barton. “What is all this?”

“Breakfast,” Barton answered, casually sipping on his - mostly unfrozen - smoothie. He pulled a frozen donut hole out of a bowl and tossed it to Stark. “Careful. Think that’s a good one, but sometimes he overdoes it with the freezy power. Don’t break your teeth.”

Stark looked dubious. He raised his eyebrows, gaze going to Bucky. Bucky didn’t move. 

Cautiously, Stark sank his teeth in through the frozen glaze, then chewed thoughtfully before swallowing. “I’m embarrassed by how good that is,” Stark said, eyes going back to the table in curiosity. “What else did you test?”

Barton started to explain their division of accepted and rejected frozen food items. Most fruit, even canned, was a yes. Dried fruit was a no. Apple slices were a no, but applesauce was a yes. Marshmallows, to Barton’s surprise, had been a no. 

Appeased that Stark’s appearance wasn’t going to cause any trouble, Bucky went back to chewing on his ice pop. Barton had effusively decided that frozen, unsweetened coffee was a no. Bucky disagreed, and had taken the rest of the molds rather than let Barton shove them over to the reject section of the table, even though he’d already more than had his fill of actual food.

Barton and Stark were arguing over the worth of having Bucky freeze slices of avocado for them to try when Thor suddenly stomped in. His gaze zeroed in on Bucky and he moved towards him with intent. Bucky went rigid, the plates on the metal arm shifting in readiness, but Thor just placed himself heavily into a nearby seat and then leaned over the table towards him.

“How did you remember,” Thor demanded, a strange glitter in his eyes.

“Remember what,” Bucky asked, then, sharply, “Is Loki alone right now?”

“He is sleeping,” Thor said.

“Yeah,” Stark said, waving around a small pad presenting a video feed of Loki’s room. “Definitely looks a little too close to the realm of corpse-like, but I’m pretty sure I can see his chest moving.”

“Bucky Barnes,” Thor said, voice imploring. “HYDRA wiped your memory. Steve told me you remembered nothing of him when you fought, but now you recall a great deal of your past with him.”

“Is this about Loki,” Bucky asked, still carefully observing Thor’s reactions - trying not to get too pissed off about the implications regarding Bucky’s memory that Steve had apparently communicated with his teammate. 

“_How_,” Thor tried again, his large forearms bunching.

“Whatever Steve told you, he’s exaggerating,” Bucky said. 

“Do you remember your mother?”

The question came out of left field. Bucky parted his lips in shock, glancing towards where Stark was looking distinctly uncomfortable and Barton was looking intentionally blank. 

Then his gaze came back to Thor, and he had to swallow down against his heart trying to pound its way up through his throat. “Yeah,” he hoarsely admitted.

Yeah, he remembered his Ma. Remembered her with enough sorrow and guilt to choke when he thought about her knowing anything about what her son had grown up to be.

“You healed,” Thor said with an eager series of quick nods. “How did you regain your memory?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky said, a strange hollowness starting to spread in his chest. “What they did to Loki was different. Powerful. HYDRA wasn’t exactly preoccupied with keeping his brain or body from frying.” He wasn’t entirely sure if they’d been entirely preoccupied with it with _him_ half the time. Sometimes he wondered if they knew it was a risk, sending that level of voltage through his head, refined from years of experience but always having the chance that something would go wrong, that their next time might be it for him for conscious thought. But it was better to keep prying use out of him for as long as they could manage. “If I knew, I’d tell you,” Bucky added.

Thor looked simultaneously like he wanted to cry and like he wanted to break every single piece of furniture in the compound with enough force to impress the Hulk. 

The food was curdling in Bucky’s gut. Or maybe it was just freezing into one solid lump. Fuck if he knew anything about how his physiology worked. 

“I could probably tell you,” Stark said into the silence, with no shortage of passive-aggression coating his tone. “But we all know what that would require.”

Bucky didn’t respond. Stark pretended not to care.

The kitchen went dead quiet. Thor was breathing heavily, still looking like he wanted to ask something else, like if he could just find the magic words it would somehow fix what was killing him.

Bucky couldn’t be there anymore. He couldn’t risk Loki waking up alone. 

He rose from his seat. “Thanks for breakfast,” he said to Barton, and exited with quick steps.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been over seven months, but I am now back to this fic! It is also now my main chaptered WIP, but I can’t guarantee any kind of update schedule yet as I am currently evacuated because of wildfires and have been living out of my car with my pets for over a month. I am doing most of my fic writing on my phone, as doing it on the laptop only nets me a couple of hours of progress with a lack of places to keep the electronics charged. It definitely won’t take another seven months to update, but it will likely be a few weeks before chapter 6. My posting will get more regular once life settles down a bit.

He was pinned beneath searing brightness, white light burning his retinas. Cruel metal bonds bit into his limbs and torso and neck, chafing his skin with every twitch. So stringently bound, his head unable to rise from the table, he couldn’t see what his captors were doing.

But he could feel it. 

His flesh was held open, screaming beneath the clamps that prised it apart, his blood pouring down his sides. His nerves signalled over and over in a desperate chorus, bidding his body to fight, to do anything he could to escape what was hurting him. 

They would go unanswered, as they had the unending hours that had come before. 

_”You are property, pure and simple, to be used until we've wrung out of you every last bit of profitable data we can possibly uncover.”_

Gloved hands reached inside - and that, he also felt. They brought with them tools that pierced and cut, eager to make scientific use of the godly flesh in their possession. His raging panic stirred higher, frenzied at the thought of more pain on top of that which already agonized him.

_Get out,_ he thought, a shrill whine muffled against the muzzle blocking his mouth. He strained, but could not so much as arch against the metal clamping him in place. _Get out, get out, get out-_

His screams soon blotted out his thoughts, and then his agony made him senseless to his screams.

There was a brief break in the escalation of the torment. A drill was removed from his torso, it’s stained surface drawn into his blurred line of vision for a moment before being placed aside. His breaths came in sobbing shudders, bringing with them more sharp stabs of agony.

The scientists would not give him mercy, no matter what sounds their attentions wrung from him. Only Pierce could do that, and he had not seen fit to visit Loki for a very long time.

_”You are property, pure and simple…”_

He _was_ property. Property that they intended to keep carving apart, from which they would keep taking and _taking_. Even when they gave him rest and bothered to allow his wounds to sluggishly patch themselves, they spoke in jest about _entertainment_, his body transitioned from an object of experimental study into a living toy for them to amuse themselves.

They often joked, a running gag to sharpen the camaraderie between them - if he was really as long-lived as they thought, did that make him something of an heirloom to their organization? Destined to be passed down to their successors as a never-ending source of scientific amusement? 

And he knew in those moments an especially deep despair at the knowledge that they would never allow him to die, and he would never escape, never find rescue, to think otherwise was the foolish hope of a pitiful mind clinging to the fantasy of a golden world it was truly not sure had ever even existed in the first place. 

Even if it had, he would never be returned to it. He would never again know comfort, or peace, or love. He was only destined to _suffer_ beneath their hands and their drills and their saws and the _lights_-

He woke gasping on a bed in the Avengers Compound, heart pounding and lungs refusing to fill. Something was at his throat and he tore at it, wrenching it from his skin with a pull that caused a fresh burst of agony at his neck. A moment later his gorge rose and he retched over the side before he could stop himself, his head throbbing as the remnants of his terror made him slow to regain full sense.

He shakily clung to the edge of the bed in the aftermath, pressing one hand against his torso and furiously taking note of the fact that, though it was only a simple shirt, he was fully clothed. The skin beneath the flimsy fabric was completely sealed shut. There were no invasive touches, wielding cruel instruments to pull him apart. No shackles to force him still beneath their attention. He was whole.

It had ended. Every human that had ever put hands on him, _inside_ of him, dead.

It had ended.

His breaths shivered out of him, clouding in the chill of the ice-coated room. It felt as if his whole body was throbbing with his heartbeat, strained muscles spasming in protest around the sharp pain of mending bones. The places in his chest where Hulk had focused his rage were still the most tender parts of him, a new source of lasting injury for his damaged body to contend with. Normally he would take some relief from his hurts in the scepter or the Tesseract, but from what he had gauged of the majority of his new allies, their wariness would require further tempering before any obvious handling. 

Not that the chance of any of them viewing such an action was a current danger. At the moment, it seemed, Loki was alone. No one, not even Thor, was presently in the room with him. 

Loki went through a gamut of emotions at that realization before he settled on anxious irritation, wearily falling back against the pillows of his bed with a wince. He’d destroyed his neck brace in his panic, but it seemed his bones had healed enough for that not to have been quite as terrible a mistake as it could have been. He checked again at the expanse of skin at his chest and belly with a splayed hand. The smell of his own sick was making him further nauseous, but he was still too weak from his outburst to employ any magic to remove it.

He stared at the frost-covered ceiling, and carefully began reorienting his mind into the present. He was yet in the compound, where the opening negotiations with the Avengers had gone much better than predicted. Though his comfort remained a distant hope, Loki was secure in the fact that he had mostly proven he was no longer their enemy. 

The Avengers had even gone so far as to allow their asylum seekers to take liberties, not even speaking of it when Bucky intentionally and willfully ruined all of their surveillance devices of the room through the extreme cold he dispersed from his body. 

Loki’s own breath still never failed to catch with each defiance, but his distress at the possibility of retribution in the aftermath began to cautiously lessen with each subsequent lack of punishment.

Very cautiously. 

One thing he was not sorry for was the destruction of the room’s lights. The sun beaming through the wall of ice was a welcome natural glow instead of the piercing one that haunted his dreams.

There was a glass of water near his bedside. He drank it, swallowing down against his lingering nausea. It was a colder temperature than he would have liked, but he supposed he should have been grateful it hadn’t simply been frozen solid.

He tried to push away a warring combination of relief and resentment and nervousness for the fact that his brother was absent instead of fussing over Loki in the wake of his nightmare. His terror from it had now mostly faded, but the hooks of remembered hopelessness were slower to release their grip. 

Where was Thor, now? The lack of his presence was an oddity - he had remained steadfast company in the last couple of days, as Loki’s body had slowly but surely knitted itself back together with long bouts of rest. Between him and Bucky, Loki had been mostly shielded from the immediate attentions of the other Avengers. But he knew that would not last. 

They would come seeking what he had promised soon enough.

Loki could feel that Bucky was somewhere nearby. He must have sensed Loki’s half-conscious panic upon waking, but he also had not reappeared as he normally did in such circumstances. Further irritation came over Loki at the distance from his main ally, and he reconsidered his hesitance with summoning the scepter, rationalizing that he could disperse of it at a moment’s notice. 

With the scepter in his grasp, it immediately felt as if he could breathe more easily. He could certainly _see_ more easily, the blurred and nearly incomprehensible shapes of the world taking on marginally clearer forms.

He sharpened his connection to Bucky. He was indeed close - right outside the door. Loki allowed himself a moment to find that fact soothing before he realized that Bucky was not alone, and there were impressions of heavy tension coming from him. Loki received the vague image of a woman with red hair.

Natasha Romanoff had come to visit.

The image grew clearer as Loki focused the scepter’s power to better see through the eyes that viewed her. She was outfitted in her full combative arsenal, sleek black lines punctuated with weapons ready to bite. It was an observation that no doubt came to him first because it was one of Bucky’s primary concerns. Loki rooted further through Bucky’s mind and found that she had just returned from a short mission, and was one of the first Avengers to do so. Which explained Thor’s absence.

That fact would also make her choice of dress convenient for her - should Bucky question her on her coming to him armed and ready, she could simply claim she hadn’t taken the time to bother to change.

And Loki had slept through it all. He had not even been awake to check what safeguards they might have left in the compound to contain their new guests. 

“Barton already cased me,” Bucky was saying. He stiffly blocked Loki’s door, with no intention of moving. “You’d save time by asking him about any threat assessments.”

She smiled briefly, her head tilting as if his words only made her all the more curious. “You don’t think there’d be any benefit in me performing my own?”

Bucky pressed back into Loki’s recently formed connection in irritated acknowledgment. _I really hate your sense of timing._ To Romanoff, he said, “You’re not gonna find anything interesting. But if it’s that hard to let go of being a SHIELD agent, go ahead.”

Bucky said the words flatly, and the insult in them was clear. Romanoff and Barton had been the Avengers both most closely and longest linked with SHIELD. Romanoff had been instrumental in its downfall and the death of Alexander Pierce, yet had loyally supported the majority of its functions before discovering the hidden manipulations within it. Bucky was considering the possibility that she may have even supported what had happened to Loki even without such a distinction.

Loki found that interesting. Previously, Bucky had staunchly argued against any considerable intention on the Avengers’ part when it came to his torture. 

_You’re not helping,_ Bucky thought at him. _This isn’t one of your self-satisfied ‘I told you so’ moments._

_You should let her in,_ Loki thought back, riding out the thrill in his gut from that very idea. _Your relentless guard and obfuscation is not exactly inspiring of trust._

_I don’t think she’s here for you,_ Bucky begrudgingly responded. 

“You and Loki seem close,” Romanoff said, her voice perfectly devoid of judgment.

“We have a few things in common,” Bucky said blandly. 

“You could have disappeared,” she said, tapping at her thigh. “I know you’re good at it. But you took him when he was half dead and kept yourself dangerously close to being on the radar. That was a lot of risk.”

There was a flash of disgruntlement in Bucky’s mind - he _agreed_ with her. That was not so much a surprise to Loki. Bucky had outright threatened to leave him behind before, and had often seemed on the precipice of it while Loki had been at his most injured. It had taken time for both of them to heal and solidify their allyship.

Bucky’s response was even-toned. “What would you have done?”

It was a loaded question, but one in which Bucky was not especially interested in the answer to. Still, it gave Romanoff pause. A pause over the course of which her expression became perfectly blank.

The change did not last long. She folded her arms, seeming to mull over his words. 

“I understand saving Steve,” she said, deigning not to answer him. “If he knocked something loose enough that you’d remember. I’m going to take a wild guess the same history isn’t there when it comes to Loki. You said you could hear him, but the files we found said you two never even interacted during the progression of HYDRA’s experiments.”

Bucky was not foolish enough to attempt lying to her. “I found him on my way out. He was almost dead.”

She furrowed her brow in confusion. “You killed everyone in that vault and left almost no trace. Except you stopped to pull out a prisoner. A very famous and dangerous one at that.”

“I thought he could tell me more about what I was,” Bucky said. “And he wasn’t much of a threat at that point.”

“And when you found out he doesn’t remember?”

Bucky shrugged. “By the time I figured that out, he’d pulled himself together. He’s good at what he does. When he’s not intentionally getting himself maimed so the Avengers won’t think he’s a threat.”

Romanoff’s eyes drifted towards the door behind Bucky. “You can tell him it was convincing,” she said, with an ironic quirk to her brow. “In case he’s considering another demonstration.”

_How generous,_ Loki thought. _Would you give her my thanks?_

_Shut up,_ Bucky sent back.

“I know you’re hesitant about any of the medical staff getting a look at you,” she said, then lifting a single shoulder. “Basically everyone in the compound knows at this point. Tony’s not the best at taking rejection quietly.”

Bucky’s defensive wariness rose once again. 

This time, Loki did not send any taunting words over their connection. It would seem he had missed some crucial and difficult interactions that had taken place between the Avengers and Bucky while he’d been unconscious. Bucky had only ever mentioned his grating concerns for Loki while their link was at enough force to communicate.

“I wanted to let you know that there’s another option,” Romanoff said. “More private. There’d be almost no chance of data storage.”

Bucky was silent for a long moment. “What’s the almost,” he eventually asked, fraught with suspicion.

Romanoff wasn’t fazed by his tone. “The doctors that would be involved both have pretty amazing memory recall.”

Just the word - _doctors_ \- was enough to stimulate a rather staggering feedback loop of stress between Loki and Bucky. Bucky clamped down hard while Loki briefly retreated, and with effort they both regained themselves.

“It’s a good bet,” Romanoff said. “I wouldn’t waste my time recommending it if it wasn’t. Besides, one of them has a lot of experience with trying to keep his blood from falling into the wrong hands.”

Loki let out a startled laugh before he could help himself. Romanoff’s gaze flicked back to the door again.

The growl Bucky desired to release was nearly audible over their link. _Are you kidding me?_

_What? You do know who she means, don’t you?_

_I can guess._

_So? You’re not telling me you don’t find this absolutely hilarious._

_And you’re pretending you’re not shit-scared at the idea._

_Hardly. I just happen to be able to find the humor in such circumstances at the same time. Anyway, as you noted, she’s here for _you._ I am not the one who must now decide whether or not to risk becoming the Hulk’s personal training dummy._

_Fuck._

They’d had enough practice with this method of communication that the thoughts were just a pulse of a heartbeat between them, not enough time for Romanoff to note anything of particular oddness with Bucky’s silence. 

She gave a short sigh, still keeping up with her generally pleasant disposition. “Well, it sounds like his hearing is improving. Maybe soon he’ll have more to say to us about what we’re up against. If he remembers enough of that.”

Bucky exhaled, stubbornly keeping his guard up. “Stark worried about that, too?”

“Stark worries about a lot,” Romanoff said. “But he’s going to take what he can get. He’s been waiting for an opportunity like this since we beat Loki in the first place.”

_So many touching overtures,_ Loki thought. _Ask her when she would like to proceed with the interrogation. Is she intending on doing it alone again or will they all be there this time?_

_I’m not your messenger boy._

_Aren’t you?_

_If you’re so eager about it you can come ask her yourself._

_Somehow I don’t think my sudden interruption would lower her suspicions about me having control of your mind. But do you know what possibly would? Agreeing to an examination._

“I’ll pass,” Bucky said, in answer to both Romanoff and Loki.

Her expression tempered. “For whatever it’s worth, Bruce wants you to know the offer’s staying open if you change your mind.” She unfolded her arms and began to walk away, before hesitating within a few steps. She turned her head. “Clint wasn’t casing you.”

Bucky stared at her, unconvinced. “Just needed a new friend that badly?”

The ironic smile was back on her face. “You came to the Avengers for help. You even spied on us to get a look at what cards would be on the table when we thought you weren’t around. Is it still that shocking that you might be getting what you were looking for?”

She didn’t await a response before turning to leave. Bucky watched her go, remaining wary until she was out of sight. Wary, and something else. 

Loki spoke out loud in her absence. “Are you planning on staying outside the door for the duration of our stay here?”

There was a pause, before Bucky ventured back in, as disgruntled and sour-faced as ever. Loki wondered if all the Frost Giants in his memory were just as dour in appearance, or if his current impressions of them were colored by his constant companion.

“So,” Loki said. “I believe you passed that examination.”

“No thanks to you,” Bucky said, double checking the ice on the walls and carefully reapplying frost over the weaker areas. 

Loki hummed as he watched him work. “Still so determined to wall them out,” he said. “But you want it. The comfort of a grander team. I felt it while you spoke to her.”

“I can want things without being stupid enough to jump into them without a second thought,” Bucky said. 

Loki pressed his lips together at the pointed dig. “And had we gone your desired route of caution, how long do you think a correspondence with the Avengers would have taken to schedule?” Bucky said nothing, but Loki could feel his companion’s annoyance steadily rising. “Months? A year?”

“None of that matters, now.”

“I disagree.” 

“You don’t need to tell me that.”

Loki used the scepter to assist him to his feet, managing to only give a slight grimace as his body staunchly protested. He would likely pay for the movement later, but at the moment he had a point to make, one he knew he was being driven to by the memory of metal clamping him down. 

The ground was cold beneath him; they had not seen fit to replace his boots. “Even before you knew your own self, you _ached_ for the very same companionship you relentlessly fled from.”

Bucky watched him approach, their connection allowing him to sense the deepening argument before it came. “They might think you’re the bigger threat, but I got a lot closer to killing her and Steve than you ever did.”

Loki laughed. “That is not in any shape the point that I am currently making, and I would have hoped as someone so intimately privy to my own strategies that you would have been able to form a more formidable misdirection than that.” He stretched out the scepter, using its point in indication. “You are _still_ running. Even now. Even when there is, effectively - and thanks to your very own suggestion - no longer anywhere that we can flee.”

A spike of ice erupted from Bucky’s hand, stretching within inches of Loki’s neck, forcing him to lean back to avoid the change the contact would force from his skin. 

Bucky was openly glaring, and his voice when it came was guttural, resonating in Loki’s chest much more than it did his ruined ears. “Running isn’t the thing I’m most worried about.”

There then, Loki saw the images in Bucky’s mind. Romanoff, her normally steady composure cracked, her face a stark white as her hand clutched against her bloodied shoulder as she fruitlessly attempted to hide herself against a car. Captain Rogers fallen, limp, his face swollen nearly beyond recognition, his numbed lips moving to speak while the floor beneath him slowly coated with ice. 

Bucky spoke the truth - it was not the only thing he was worried about, but the damage he would potentially do to others was certainly a great concern. 

It was also completely _useless_, now that they were here. Now that they had already surrendered themselves.

Loki swallowed, then laughed again - just a soft huff through his grin. The cold was burning in earnest at his neck. “In that case, perhaps it is good that Banner specifically would be your examiner.”

Bucky made a noise of aggravation. He did not otherwise respond - a signal that Loki was now the victor of this particular conversation. 

Loki raised the scepter, using it to deftly cut through the spike of ice, and was pleased when it was not reformed. He rubbed at his neck, absently hoping the flesh had not shifted, then tapped at the scepter to carefully release the frosty splinters that still clung to it.

“So - will you be insisting on considering a similarly leaden time frame now that we are already effectively in the belly of the beast? Bending in deference is such a small action to take when it comes to the success of the grander task ahead.”

“Is that you saying that?” Bucky asked, voice thick with bitterness. “Or is it Pierce?”

Loki froze, his smugness fading with an abrupt sensation of being wrong-footed. 

Bucky stared hard. “And if it is Pierce, is it the one in your head, or the one in mine?”

Loki pressed his lips together, feeling his own anger begin to simmer to greater extent. Perhaps his judgment of the end to this discussion had been premature. “Adaptability,” he said, “can be a great asset to one’s own survival.”

“I’m adapting,” Bucky said. “You’re done fighting back. I get it.” He clenched his fists. “But I think you’re only doing that because of what HYDRA did to you. I spent an entire night skimming those feeds. I watched you break, and then forget that they had broken you, just so they could do it again.”

Loki thought of a lonely, tormented monster, eagerly taking commands from its captors, even after they left it howling in agony.

The imagery applied to both of them, except Loki knew that his own superior strength in resisting - in _fighting,_ as Bucky had put it - had been no great advantage in his imprisonment. It had only meant that his torturers had worked all the harder to shatter him.

He laughed, his mouth straining around the action. This time, his smirk faded quickly. “And what? Is this a comparison to your own recent pristine…_wholeness_? The steady regathering of your own memories, while mine remain hopelessly absent? Will that make it any easier, to have the knowledge of who exactly your trespasses offend, until they decide we are simply _not worth the effort?_” 

Bucky gestured expansively. “Why the hell do you think I’ve been so focused on shielding the room?”

“Yes, with your monstrous hand, you wield ice to encase and protect us. You say we are not prisoners, but you are forgetting that to the government these Avengers serve, I am not considered a man at all - I am merely a thing. _Property_, only existing marginally undamaged at the grace of others. And the Avengers are the soldiers that were once wielded to reform me into such a state.” Loki found that his limbs had begun to tremble with the intensity of his emotions. He didn’t bother to attempt to suppress it - it hardly mattered, when the one he was speaking to had such a direct line into his thoughts. “Even Asgard will not see fit to offer me anything further, be it assistance or punishment. So tell me, what wisdom can there be in willfully aggravating those who _would_ seek to now claim me? To claim _you_, since my blood has made us alike, and I sincerely doubt their authorities will split hairs when it comes to your previously more human-inclined physical state given the magnitude of your crimes.”

Frost visibly formed in patches of white blooms over Bucky’s clothes. He stared at Loki with fury burning in his eyes. Fury, and something brittle and resigned. He looked between his own hands - one metal, one blue.

Loki spoke solemnly. “You have been a staunch ally. But better now to seem an object that holds use and value, instead of one that malfunctions and inconveniences its owners.”

Bucky snarled, and at this proximity even Loki’s poor vision could see the white flash of his sharp teeth. “Fuck you. They said they were working to change it.”

“_Stark_ said he was working to change it. But I would gather at this moment that his primary concern is the physical health of his new guests, rather than any complicated legal processes needed to enact such change. Besides, such a battle would only announce our presence to the grander world at large. I would be eager to see how you think keeping samples of your tissues free of their possession or your mighty ice barricades would help when the humans decide they must meet us with armies to put us in our places.” He used the scepter to point upwards. “And that is not to mention the other army, that will one day arrive without announcement from the far reaches of space. Though, if it helps, that particular threat will likely have little to no interest in your soiled blood, besides painting the ground with it as they slaughter you.”

Bucky dropped his hands, his throat working. “We told them no,” he said, but his conviction was beginning to waver.

“That was when we assumed we were in a position to do so,” Loki said. “They do not currently believe we are a true danger. I am growing weary of watching you attempt to change their minds.”

“But it’s fine when you do it,” Bucky said.

“I only considered such actions to test them when we were hidden and might have still disappeared.” 

“And because you thought it was fun,” Bucky pointed out.

“_Trust me_ when I say I very much believe genuinely risking further torment _now_ to be...not that.”

Bucky went quiet, his own thoughts urging him to run, to seek whatever freedom he could claw from the shambles of what the world had left to offer someone like him.

Loki stood firm. _To ally with the mighty heroes of Earth will grant us much more in the way of freedoms than to be willful criminals that must be pursued and crushed by their higher authorities._

And, beneath that, like a drop of water rippling across the surface of his memories - _Freedom is life’s great lie._

Loki did not say the words out loud. He didn’t even place particular emphasis on projecting them to Bucky. They were simply what came to mind unbidden, and they felt right.

With the scepter strengthening their connection, he knew Bucky heard them all the same. The sigh he released sounded like another growl. Loki himself could hear loud and clear the invectives that were circling through Bucky’s mind. 

“If you’re right, we need to go back to our safe house now, while we have the chance,” he said. “All of that equipment is still there.”

Loki curled his hand, readily eager at the idea of touching the Tesseract and curious now that it had appeared Bucky had capitulated to his argument. “After everything I just said, you would consider sneaking out from under their noses?”

“You want to just leave it all there for someone to find?”

“The contents are well warded.”

“Fury found us even with your wards.”

Loki exhaled, considering. Bucky did have a point, even if Loki was not impressed with the idea of another rebellion before they had even given their proper penance. But now that he was less infirm, some of his terror at being helpless had faded. And if they were to be quick about it, the Avengers would never even know they had been gone.

He narrowed his eyes. “And what of their requests?”

“I’ll meet with Banner,” Bucky said, glancing over his shoulder at the door to the room, before he sealed the section around the doorknob to doubly ensure they were not disturbed. “But not until we can coordinate for a time that you’ll be able to keep contact with the scepter. The second I tell you to, I don’t care what the hell’s going on at your end, you jump to me with the Tesseract and you extract me to safety.”

“I could teach you how to wield it yourself,” Loki said.

Bucky leveled him with a dubious look, but some of the heat had left his voice. “Pull the other one. Like you’d ever willingly let go of the damn thing.”

It would seem they had reached a compromise. Loki rolled the scepter against his palm - with it he would probably be able to physically make the journey, but such a visit would only strain him further when it was again out of his grasp. Still… 

“I _was_ missing that chair,” Loki said.

“You don’t need the fucking chair,” Bucky griped.

Loki smirked. He summoned the Tesseract - with it in one hand and the scepter in the other, the power flowing through him quickly grew to exhilarating. “Oh,” he said, his vision filled with a blue glow. “I have yearned to feel this again.”

He pulled them both across the world, not thinking too hard on the complaints of his body beneath the swell of power overlaid upon it. Their previous retreat was intact, just as they had left it. His wards had held even in his absence. Bucky hurried to grab the bag he kept for instances of quick escape - filled to the brim with dozens of notebooks that he had spent hours upon hours filling, front to back. 

Loki, in contrast, had only the material items he had collected since their escape. Trophies, that he had gathered to rebuild his new self in the aftermath of the barren cell that had spent years being his home. A piece of furniture here, a decorative canvas there. His own bed, generously padded with embroidered pillows and soft blankets. 

He stared at all of them in longing, thinking of the bare frosted walls and impersonal sheets he would soon return to. Perhaps, if they continued to successfully please the Avengers, he would be allowed to put them on display once again. The cobbled patchwork of his current existence.

Bucky may have claimed Loki had no need of any material possessions, but he had so many of his own memories put to paper to keep him company. And those he held close, revered even over any weaponry or defenses he possessed.

As for Loki…the chair itself was not what he coveted. It was what it symbolized about who he was, in this journey to rediscover himself. His self beyond the lightning and the blood spilled and the screams.

As he stowed the last of his belongings he found that the computer Bucky had used to open the files they’d stolen from Fury was still powered on. Several windows were open on its screen, a tile work presenting the inside of the HYDRA base. A collection of varied images were showing, and Loki did not need Bucky’s eyes to know what they contained.

In one he recognized the colors and lines of his cell, a pale splotch of color in the center slumped against the wall with eyes like bruises. In another, a length of silver, the same pale splotch of a body stretched out upon it, this time painted over with an expanse of red.

Even half-blind he could see it - the very visible and terrible price of what happened when one _fought._

Loki wished those images were of as much of a stranger as the tales Thor told him of time long past. Wished they were not permanently marked into him.

By the time Bucky finished his own perusals and returned to him, the machine was a sparking heap. With a second shot, it turned into ash. Unsalvageable.

Bucky scowled at the destruction. “You could have stored that,” he said, before handing Loki his assortment of packs.

“You told me you had already gone through them all,” Loki said, quickly magicking away the bulky bags. “As you would say - we do not _need_ it. Shall we be on our way?”

Bucky stared at him. Now that their brief task was finished, he was filled with reluctance to return to the Avengers Compound.

“We have come too far now to stay separated now,” Loki said, unable to help the warning in his tone. For he knew that Bucky could yet decide to now run with his memories, and it would be a greater loss to Loki than the chair. Even beyond what practical defensive use there was in them staying together.

“Wow,” Bucky said, voice flat enough that Loki knew he had been listening in closely on his thoughts. “More important than the chair. Way to make a guy feel appreciated.”

“Oh, I am sorry,” Loki said dryly. “Would you prefer I allow you to beat me almost to death as a show of friendship?”

Bucky’s response was even dryer. “Isn’t that exactly what you just let happen with the Avengers?”

Loki froze, cursing inwardly as his teeth closed together with a clack. “I dislike,” he said, “when you win our arguments.”

Bucky shook his head. “Yeah, well...I think you’ve still got one on me. I’m the idiot who’s been convinced to risk a second time around with the rampaging gamma beast.”

Loki frowned at the unhappy tone. “As you said, we will schedule it at a time when I will be able to pull you out in the case of anything catastrophic.”

“You’re damn right we will,” Bucky said. He thrust his hand out in offering. The blue one.

Loki hesitated. 

“Thought the contact would make transport easier,” Bucky said. “Considering how much you’ve screwed with your body lately.”

“It would,” Loki answered, still not moving to take the limb.

Bucky rolled his eyes as he realized Loki’s aversion was not just going to fade. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He switched hands, 

“Thank you,” Loki said. He grasped it and transitioned them back.

Once in the room again he kept his connection to Bucky intact. The other went still and cocked his head, listening, his eyes roving the room for any signs of tampering while they had been away. 

“Room’s secure,” Bucky noted, then grasped at Loki’s arm in urgency. “But someone’s definitely on their way. We’re just in time.” He quickly steered him towards the bed.

Loki sat, turning a regretful eye upon the glow of his weapons, then stored them away with everything else. The pains of his traitorous body immediately amplified as his other senses deadened, and he groaned as he shifted himself upon the mattress and back into a spot of modest relief, pulling the covers over his lower half to give the appearance of having never left.

There was already a furious pounding at the door as their visitor found it impassable. Thor’s voice came to him in volume if not clarity, his brother having taken to attempting to loudly overcompensate for Loki’s poor hearing without the power of the scepter. It only made his shouting more of a garbled incomprehensible mess through the door.

Bucky gave him a look. He was awaiting his decision.

Loki waved his hand. “You may allow him entrance.”

Bucky sighed, then used his metal arm to crush through the ice blocking the door. He still didn’t manage it quick enough to prevent Thor from taking Mjolnir and breaking it the rest of the way inwards, sending shattered ice flying across the room. A familiar shape of red and silver soon rushed inside.

“Apologies,” Loki said, attempting to sound unaffected despite the way his throat had tightened in the face of his brother’s violence. “We thought it was prudent to have additional shielding while you were away.”

Thor’s urgency faded, and he lowered his hammer, looking mildly guilty. “You had been sleeping so much,” he said. “I was sure I would be back before you were awake.”

“He’s not complaining,” Bucky said, and when Thor turned to him he shrugged. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

_Was that a joke?_ Loki thought, but Bucky was already out the door and seemed disinclined towards further contact.

_Bucky,_ Loki thought again, demandingly, cursing the way he had to focus the words without the scepter.

_I’m going to find Romanoff,_ he heard in response. The words were faint, an impression of facts transferred to him rather than deliberate communication. _Before you spontaneously decide I’m going too slow on that and throw me into Banner’s bedroom in the middle of the night._

Loki reluctantly relaxed, allowing their link to become more unfocused. If anything particularly unpleasant happened, he knew the strength of Bucky’s emotions would bleed back into their link and alert him.

“You removed the neck brace,” Thor said worriedly. “Should I have them bring another?”

Right. The nightmare. What a perfect time to be again reminded of exactly why he should be so grateful that Thor was here and seemed to yet show interest in his returned sibling, even while the rest of Asgard did not.

“It is no longer needed,” Loki said. Whether or not that was true, he was very eager to avoid anything that felt like restraint placed upon his person. “The damage is only an issue if I make dramatic movement - which, obviously, I am currently very disinclined to do.”

While he spoke, Thor stepped over to the side of the bed to stare at the ground, his brow drawn low. “You were ill.”

Ah - Loki had forgotten about that. He was rather surprised he still had the capacity for forgetting, considering how much of his mind had been left blank. 

“It was brief,” he said. He spelled away the mess and suppressed the grimace that wanted to form at the resulting roar in his veins from the strain. “A small matter. I feel better already.”

Thor looked at him, drawing a chair forward so that he could take his usual sport beside the bed. “That is good,” he said, setting Mjolnir down with a light thud. “It seems that you are on your way to recovering. The others have called for lunch - it should be here soon. And Doctor Cho has ordered that another blended drink will be made for you, to aid in giving you the needed nutrients for speedy healing.”

Something else cold to consume. How appealing. At the very least, the thought of food in general no longer immediately sent his stomach leaping into his throat. 

“That is very kind,” he said. Then, “Thor...if you have the time to spare…”

Thor took his meaning quickly. Loki had only ever directly asked for one thing from him since he’d woken from the Hulk’s attack. “You would hear another tale of our childhood?”

“Only if it is not too much trouble,” Loki said.

There was a moment of pained silence. Loki thought he was becoming used to this, the way his heart sped when he was unable to clearly see the response on his brother’s face.

He did not need to have a connection to Thor’s mind to know he still retained some expectations that Loki’s memories would return of their own accord, and each time Loki gave proof that it remained otherwise he saddened his brother a little more.

Ironically, the face of Thor’s apparent distress gave him further tentative hope. It was yet more hints that the creature that had lost so much of itself that it was left mourning in the dark for some nebulous idea of love had not had those thoughts completely borne of childish fantasies.

And what was more, he now had these chances for a vicarious experience of the idyllic life his past self had so thoroughly ruined. Unless he gave them reason to put him into another box of lightning, these memories he would be allowed to keep. 

Thor’s hand came to the side of his neck, briefly, and Loki’s body responded eagerly to the warmth of that hand. _Settle,_ the touch said. _You have earned a reprieve._

And whether the voice was his own or Pierce’s did not truly matter. He was here.

He had earned his reprieve.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back inside my house and should have a semi-regular posting schedule soon! The next chapter of this fic is nearly complete already and should be up within a week.

When they’d gone back to the safehouse, Loki had been distracted. He hadn’t been leaning into Bucky’s thoughts as much as he might have while being completely stuck in his own head. He hadn’t made any real note of what exactly Bucky had packed in his bags beyond the notebooks.

They didn’t keep secrets from each other. They couldn’t, really. But sometimes Loki was so self-absorbed in his own traumas that even that fact didn’t stop him from missing things occasionally, even while Bucky was just in the next room.

HYDRA had utilized a variety of sources to keep their Winter Soldier pliant between missions. The memory wipe chair had just been one aspect. A cocktail of drugs - some of them heavy on the benzodiazepine - had been another. 

He’d taken a huge surplus of it, among other chemical mixes, when he’d first escaped HYDRA. They’d come in handy for keeping Loki sedated in the early days of their escape whenever they’d had to move locations. Bucky had been planning on reducing his own dose slowly, before his body’s transformation had forced him to fall headfirst into the severe withdrawal that came with going cold turkey.

And he was _really_ glad Loki wasn’t currently so deep in his head that he was able to make a smartass remark about the possible pun in those words.

But the sudden cutoff meant he’d had leftovers. He hadn’t disposed of them, knowing - _hoping_ \- that most of the world didn’t have supersoldier-strength doses that could be easily attained and measured out. He’d kept them stored for possible future use.

Right now they were wherever Loki put things away with his magic. 

Even HYDRA’s extreme mixture hadn’t been enough to hold Bucky back completely when he was being particularly erratic, not without just knocking him out completely. But it wouldn’t hurt to implement it now.

And what he’d done to enable Loki’s blood transfusion had opened up new avenues with the possibility of injecting himself. If he could replicate the change, that was. He hadn’t tried it again yet, too worried to hope it was more than a one time thing. And, if he was being honest, he hadn’t really wanted to deal with the discomfort that came with the change if it wasn’t.

He made his way through the compound towards the main lounge without an escort. He knew that Stark’s security system would be tracking him, out here where the ice hadn’t blocked it. His hackles were stiff at the knowledge - besides being obviously displeased that Loki and Bucky had deliberately spied on them, the Avengers had been painfully unclear on the kind of behavior they expected from their former enemies. 

Romanoff had asked him if the Avengers’ offer of help was surprising. Of course it was. Even if her words hadn’t been complete bullshit, the passing of time and Loki’s view of the situation weren’t really helping him come around to accepting them any better.

Bucky’s refusal of a cell or any kind of restraint had been one of his main points in agreeing to stay in the compound. Now that Loki had twisted him around on his own rights of a hard line when it came to doctors, he was becoming even more uncertain that everything else he’d demanded couldn’t just fall through.

He tried his damndest to keep from blasting frost everywhere and just put one foot in front of the other, making his way towards the elevator. His one consolation in all the uncertainty was that Steve was the Avengers’ tactical leader, and they seemed at least somewhat willing to take risks when it came to what he thought was best. 

Whatever the outcome, he’d deal with it. His objective was simple - and for this part, at least, he didn’t have an active Loki variable in play to decide its success. 

Which in and of itself wasn’t an entirely positive aspect. He’d gotten used to the benefits of having someone of that level of power on his side backing him up. Now it felt like there was a ball of something sour in the back of his throat, and it only threatened to grow when he exited onto the Avengers’ main floor and heard their voices drifting through the common room.

They were arguing, voices carrying easily in the open space, but there was a lightness to it. They sounded at ease in the aftermath of their mission. He knew he was about to interrupt the team bonding.

He didn’t announce his arrival but made sure to place himself where he’d be visibly vulnerable. They still didn’t notice him immediately.

The damage the Hulk had done to the room had already been fixed, pristine new furniture in place, the floors rebuilt and buffed to a bright sheen. A long table was covered with an assortment of takeout containers, and glasses of some kind of odd green concoction probably meant for post-mission fueling. It looked weird, but still a hell of a lot more appetizing than the clinical nutrition HYDRA had liked to offer. 

The Avengers were all dressed in their civilian clothes, which was another source of confusion for Bucky. He hadn’t changed out of his own mission gear since the day he and Loki had raided Fury’s base.

He supposed they could be confident that either Thor or Stark’s security would have alerted them if anything went wrong, just as they must have been when they’d decided to _leave the compound_ in the first place. Bucky had half-thought the entire thing must have been some kind of test, but from what he was hearing so far it didn’t seem like it had been. Wilson had stayed behind to keep an eye on things, but he’d had trouble with Bucky before Loki’s serum had taken full effect. Which was either a testament to Stark’s security system, or… another almost complete lack of caution for him to be baffled and appalled at.

He looked to Stark first. A brief assessment told him the man was seemingly uninjured from their mission, wearing a t-shirt double-layered over one with long-sleeves, with no weapons or defenses obvious on his person. Which didn’t mean much when it came to Stark but it did mean in the event of violence there would be a crucial delay before he could get into any of his suits of armor. 

“It’s not very spy-like,” Stark was saying. “Leaving a handwritten note at the scene of the crime. He’s not supposed to want _credit._”

“We’ve been benched,” Barton said. Plaid shirt, leather jacket - which meant multiple possibilities for weapon concealment, but like Stark, a severe lack of any meaningful bodily protection. “You didn’t get that?”

“Fury did say he wants us to focus on the new recruits,” Steve said, piling up a few of the takeout boxes and clutching them against his body. If anything, Steve was under-dressed, wearing just the thin grey layer of fabric he kept on beneath his suit that somehow managed to emphasize his musculature more than if he’d been naked, and thus the positioning of all of his vital organs. Like he just expected his own skin to protect him if things went wrong. 

“He literally just physically stopped by a few days ago,” Stark said, drawing Bucky’s attention back his way. “I have a hard time believing he couldn’t have just dropped a more direct hint that our services weren’t needed before we actually went through the trouble of flying _in_to our umpteenth super-secret HYDRA base.”

“Thought this was what you wanted,” Wilson said. No wings, no goggles - Bucky supposed he could have kept a pair of submachine guns hidden under his cotton jacket, but he really doubted it. Wilson acted like he had a decent and stable head on his shoulders, but he, like Steve, had just stayed in the room in dangerous proximity while Bucky had been inches away from losing it while trying to help Loki.

“I mean, yes,” Stark said, “but I also wanted it without the unnecessary field trip sidelining me from about fifteen severely important projects.” Stark looked at Romanoff. “What did Barnes say? Our resident reforming megalomaniac ready to come totally off the parenteral nutrition?”

Romanoff, who was taking a long draw of her smoothie, jerked her head towards Bucky in indication. She had changed from her tactical suit to a simple shirt and jacket, but he knew she was still well armed - he didn’t expect there were many situations that existed where she wouldn’t be.

Stark turned, brow wrinkling, the confusion on his face only growing when he spotted Bucky. “I thought I felt a cool breeze,” he muttered. 

Barton saw him next. “Hey man,” he said. “Maybe keep a few more steps back from the table. Already feels like we need to reheat the fries.”

Steve nearly dropped his generous armful of containers to the floor in his haste to lower them back down. “Buck,” he said. “I was just coming down with lunch.”

Banner was already eating, wearing a loose, dark sweater. He glanced at Bucky, then averted his eyes back to his plate, chewing quietly. He looked withdrawn and exhausted. More importantly, he didn’t look like he was going to turn green any time soon.

Which was good, but Bucky wasn’t here for him yet. 

Stark had pulled a clamshell case from his pocket, popping it open to free a pair of sunglasses which he raised and looked into with a frown. “Did you tamper with my security system?”

Bucky shook his head once. 

Stark tensed, eyes darting up. “Okay, house rules - spells of invisibility are now limited to personal quarters.”

“I’m not invisible,” Bucky said. “And I don’t do spells.”

Stark stared at him for a long moment, then sighed. “I’m going to run some diagnostics. There _should_ have been an alert that you were coming up.”

Bucky wasn’t really interested in defending himself beyond what he already had. The concessions he was about to make were sure to improve Stark’s mood, anyway. 

He looked towards Romanoff, and kept his voice low and calm. “Can we talk?”

Romanoff lowered her drink back to the table; the clack it made seemed loud in the silence that followed. Barton flicked his eyes between her and Bucky, losing some of his casual air as he straightened. Stark looked at Bucky again, eyebrows raised, then pointedly directed his gaze back down to his plate, one hand pinching at a hinge on his glasses.

Bucky swallowed, knowing that asking to be alone with one of the Avengers he’d tried to murder even before being fully enhanced with Loki’s blood could be seen as a major threat. Especially since none of them seemed to be properly outfitted for such an occasion.

“You can pick the location,” he said, keeping his tone non-confrontational. “And bring backup for the transfer, if you want.”

Wilson frowned, peering at Bucky like he wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “You want to talk to her alone but you’re saying she might need backup?”

“No, I…” Bucky ground his jaw, and thought about what Loki had said about _still running._

Loki was right. What was the point of trying any secrecy when it came to this?

He widened his stance. “I want to schedule an examination,” he said. Straight to the point. 

Stark, who had started doing his best to pretend he was preoccupied with messing with the bun to the burger on his plate, shot his gaze back up again. He looked towards Banner, and though he wasn’t saying anything there was an intensity to him that made Bucky think he wouldn’t be surprised if Stark just spontaneously started vibrating in his seat.

Banner carefully finished chewing his food, and gave a small nod, clearing his throat. “Uh, sure. Did…did you have any particular time in mind?”

“Not yet,” Bucky said, furious with the way his heart was pounding in his ears. How the hell was he going to explain this? “Loki has some of my things stored with his magic. That I might need.”

Romanoff was watching him with narrowed eyes. He wondered if she was starting to realize why he’d tried to pull her aside in the first place.

“Just ask Stark,” Barton said, waving a floppy fry Stark’s way before tossing it into his mouth. “He can get pretty much anything.”

“Well, he’d be right about that,” Stark said, leaning back in his seat, and now _he_ was watching Bucky with narrowed eyes.

The conversation was running away from him. Bucky clenched his hands, wondering why he couldn’t just do this properly and get it over with. He almost wished he could just attack them - it’d be a lot easier to deal with a combat situation than what he had planned. Especially with how poorly prepared they all were for such an event.

He wasn’t going to say that out loud, though, and he kept an iron grip on the ice that wanted to spread out at the appeal of that thought.

“Not yet,” he said again, trying to evoke firmness without giving away too much of his agitation. “It’s formulas that were specifically made for me. To help with maintenance.”

“Formulas from Loki?” Barton sharply asked.

“From HYDRA,” Bucky corrected, just the name feeling like it was curdling on his tongue.

“Maintenance,” Wilson repeated with a scowl. “Why do I figure you’re not referring to the bionic murder arm?”

Steve was getting that angry look behind his eyes that said he was ready for a fight. “What kind of formulas?”

Bucky kept his body language as inoffensive as possible even though he was feeling like chewing on glass would be a preferable activity compared to this. “So I don’t cause a problem.”

“Okay, hold up,” Wilson said, eyes shooting towards Romanoff in something like accusation. “Who said you were going to cause a problem?”

“No one,” Bucky said before Romanoff could answer. “But you saw what happened when I tried to draw my own blood.”

Steve’s frown deepened. There was hope in his eyes but he wasn’t backing Bucky about this like he had everything else before.

“This is a turn from thirty minutes ago,” Romanoff said, immeasurably calm. Both of her hands were still in sight on the table. “What changed your mind?”

Bucky knew she’d be able to tell if he was lying, and _Loki_ clearly wasn’t going to be an answer they’d appreciate.

Barton read his silence correctly anyway. “It was that asshole, wasn’t it?” He shook his head. “What’s the angle here? Getting his new pawn to do the one thing he doesn’t want to do so he’ll feel better?”

There was the rage, like boiling water poured into his veins. Bucky hadn’t considered this - the fact that they might actually not just take his decision at face value, even though it was something they really wanted. Which meant that it was very possible now he was in a position where he had to _convince_ them to do the thing he hated. 

Wilson gave Barton a look. “You mean feel better than permanent damage from having his guts laid out on a table for years?”

Barton didn’t look very happy about being reminded about that. Bucky saw Stark’s eye twitch in response followed by a heavy swallow of discomfort. Banner didn’t really move much, but there was a change in his posture that made it look like he really wanted to deflate into the table.

Barton shook his head, grabbing another fry and dipping it listlessly into ketchup. “Go ahead,” he said, staring down at his plate, voice a lot more tired than angry. “Tell me I’m overreacting. It’s definitely what I’d prefer to hear.”

Bucky’s frustration was reaching a peak. He didn’t quite hold in his glare when he looked at Romanoff. “I thought you said it was convincing,” he said, and suddenly he was really starting to worry about what he was going to do next if this kept escalating, so he turned on his heel and started walking away.

The rapid footsteps following close behind him weren’t a surprise. “Don’t touch me,” he said, already knowing it was Steve. He felt like his shoulders were too tight, and his jaw was getting sore with how badly he was clenching his teeth. 

“I won’t,” Steve said, still falling into step _right beside him_, either oblivious to or not acknowledging the severity of Bucky’s fury as he adjusted the ridiculous stack of takeout boxes and drinks balanced in the crook of his arm. “You really wanted to do it.”

Bucky kept walking, very aware that he was teetering on a very dangerous edge of wanting to violently emphasize to Steve how much he should take more care around him. He wondered if Steve had at least picked his left side on purpose; there was a more distinct difference in temperature there thanks to the metal limb. It was damn ironic that it could technically be considered the least dangerous thing about him now thanks to Loki’s serum. 

He tried to exhale some of his emotions; it didn’t quite work. “If I didn’t, why the hell would I bring it up?”

“That’s good,” Steve said. It was cold enough that Bucky could see his breath on the air, but he still kept pace. “We were just surprised. You did argue pretty strongly against any kind of medical examination.”

“Loki’s not controlling me,” Bucky said, feeling like maybe he could argue about that part after all. “But if everyone still thinks he is then maybe keeping me dosed will help with that concern, too.”

More footsteps were coming up behind him. Bucky felt his tension rise at being outnumbered again. He stopped and turned, instinctively taking a step away from Steve in case he needed the space to attack.

Banner.

“Hi,” Banner said, giving a small wave without raising his hand higher than his waist. “So I heard you’re...having some problems. I appreciate that you’re trying to do what you can to make it easier.”

He sounded a lot more cautious than anyone else, another baffling point as out of all of them he had the least to worry about. “Are you going to do it?”

Banner blinked a little rapidly. “You wanted to schedule it later. So you have time to get the drugs you need.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Uh, do you mind if I maybe - do some chemical analysis? Nothing super in depth, I just…” He trailed off at the expression on Bucky’s face. “Just wanted to make sure you’re safe,” he finished, with a look towards Steve like he was hoping for back up.

“HYDRA fine-tuned the mixture,” Bucky said, feeling frost begin to liberally coat his skin beneath his clothes and crunch apart with every breath he took. “There’s seventy years of research from their top scientists behind it.”

Banner’s smile was vaguely agonized. “Right - it’s not that I don’t think they didn’t know what they were doing, I was just more thinking about the...humane aspect, of it.”

This, Bucky thought, was why he hadn’t wanted to give in. Because if you let anyone take an inch, then they were just going to assume that the mile was already theirs. If they had the data on what HYDRA had done to keep him down then they could extrapolate from the ingredients. Come up with their own formulas. Things that would even be enough to slow down Steve if they put their minds to it. 

But he guessed the mile hadn’t been his to withhold in the first place. And if he wanted the chance for it to be his - for it to be _Loki’s_ \- then this was one of the steps he needed to take.

“Fine,” he said, wishing he could just shut everything off, the damn emotions that were writhing through him. The fact that he had woken up and spent so much time being his own man was only making everything harder. 

Banner nodded. “I’m free any time. We kind of cleared our schedules for you guys.”

“Tomorrow,” Bucky said, and already regretted it. He should just get it over with as soon as possible instead of ruminating in the stress of it. But he wanted to make sure he had plenty of time to plan things out properly with Loki. 

“Sounds good,” Banner said, nodding like he was just as uncertain. “How about in the morning, after breakfast?”

Bucky remembered that, the way meals had used to have a social schedule aspect to them, instead of simple fueling. There hadn’t been an iota of that with HYDRA, and then after they’d escaped Loki and he hadn’t been on a set schedule. They’d taken meals when they were between missions - mostly separately, because Loki hated both having anyone around when there was food in front of him, and acted like he’d rather throw himself off a bridge than deal with the look and sound of Bucky eating. And even then, they only took enough for whatever was needed to keep them going to the next HYDRA base. With Bucky’s temperature issue, getting calories was an ordeal he only dealt with when he knew he’d have the downtime to concentrate on it. Until Barton had tried to bring the social aspect back into it.

What was Banner’s preference? Was he expecting Bucky to be present at said breakfast? Or did he mean any time in the morning after Bucky had eaten? Or was there a set window that he was thinking of, that once closed meant he’d be ready?

Bucky just nodded. They knew where he was. It wasn’t like they couldn’t contact him as soon as they wanted to. 

Banner looked like he wanted to say more and leave as fast as possible at the same time. “Okay,” he said, awkwardly. “I’m sorry, about before - I was a little stressed out. But I guess Loki just kind of...brings it out of me.” 

“He knew what he was doing,” Bucky said, remembering the percussive magnitude of only having a wall of ice between him and the Hulk’s ferocity.

“I know,” Banner said, still fidgeting. “Trust me, I...that actually makes me feel worse.”

Bucky kept himself still and inoffensive - he hadn’t been trying to make Banner feel better, but he wasn’t trying to provoke him, either. 

Banner cleared his throat. “Did you um, have any questions?”

“No,” Bucky said. 

“Okay,” Banner said. “I guess I’ll...see you tomorrow.”

Bucky turned his back, even if every instinct in him was screaming that was a terrible idea.

Steve followed, quiet for a stretch of a few seconds as they loaded into the elevator. Once the doors closed, he asked, “Was it Loki?” He met Bucky’s eyes. “I noticed you never gave them a direct answer.”

Bucky could see Steve’s skin flushing from the cold - he looked away, trying to get himself under control. “His priorities right now are geared towards our safety.”

“We’re not handing him over to anyone,” Steve said. 

“Maybe you think that,” Bucky said. “But what if someone finds out he’s here? Stark said he’s the lawful equivalent of a bicycle.”

“Right,” Steve said, his confidence darkening into something more somber. “You heard all of that.”

The elevator doors pinged open. Bucky stepped out quickly, wondering if he was imagining the relief on Steve’s face at the increased distance. He carefully scanned the hall for anyone in proximity before he moved on.

He definitely wasn’t imagining it - Steve _was_ keeping a bigger gap between them. Which was better, but he still refused to go get something even mildly more protective to wear to help himself.

“We’ll fix it,” Steve said. 

“He wants to make sure I don’t convince you to change your minds,” Bucky said, with a glance upwards to where he was sure one of Stark’s cameras had to be located. Stark had said he hadn’t seen Bucky coming, but he knew any hole in the compound’s defenses would be well patched over before long, if they weren’t already.

“We know that,” Steve said. “We won’t. He doesn’t have to keep trying to appease us.”

“Yeah, well - he thinks I should,” Bucky said, and why the hell was all of this coming out? The responses he was getting were intel, he told himself, and any intel right now was good. He was almost certain he wasn’t in immediate danger with Steve, even if the idea of Steve going and saying any of this to the others made his stomach tight.

“You were under HYDRA’s control,” Steve said.

“I know,” Bucky said. “And now everyone thinks I’m under Loki’s.” As if in emphasis of those words, he could feel the dissonant threads of Loki’s mind start to radiate out more strongly as he neared his room. 

It brought him back mentally to when things had been like that all the time, the downtime in the vault between HYDRA’s missions and the confusion of someone else’s suffering bleeding into his head. Before the scepter had turned the din of their muffled thoughts into something more direct.

Thor was still in there, which was both a comfort and an annoyance. Bucky hated going in and watching how what he could feel of Loki’s thoughts were sometimes so at odds with the way he did things that would satisfy his brother, now that he’d so thoroughly trashed his own body. Not that Bucky had been very happy when Loki had been wantonly and gleefully poking at Thor and the others like they were a herd of bulls he was trying to bring down on them, he just…wished there was some damn middle ground.

Bucky made sure to approach the room first, concentrating on sending out a brief mental alert so Loki wouldn’t panic when the door opened. When Steve walked in behind him Loki went stiff on the bed anyway, throat working and fingers curling as he directed his scarred eyes to the room’s entrance. Bucky glanced back, wondering what Steve looked like in Loki’s terrible vision at this distance with that ridiculous stack of boxes in his arms.

“It’s Steve,” Bucky said, trying to project his thoughts with the words, specifically the fact that the boxes were all cardboard and only contained food.

“Ah, Captain,” Loki said, his demeanour perking up demonstratively even as the rest of his body stayed carefully still. He was sitting up propped against the pillows, one of his legs bent - a casual-looking position, but it would have made it easier for him to move if he’d thought he was in immediate danger. “Here for a talk?”

“And lunch,” Steve said. “If you’re a bit more up to it.”

Thor rose from his chair, quickly helping Steve with his burden. 

Loki stayed where he was while they set up around him, and Bucky could see him trying and failing to visually track their movements. His tension was doing this odd thing where it was rising expectantly even as he finally physically began to relax, his leg falling back to the bed. His voice, too, smoothed out, becoming more agreeable.

“Of course. My thanks for the generosity of the Avengers.”

What Bucky heard after that was something like _perhaps it will be food first, then words,_ and the sense that this was familiar ground. 

Loki had some heavy associations when it came to eating food and apparent social situations thanks to Pierce’s mind games. Bucky wondered how bad this was going to be.

Loki sent him a severe look while the others were occupied. He was at least partially aware of why he was thinking the way he was, and didn’t believe that the change in who was giving him food made his wariness apply any less to the situation. 

Bucky begrudgingly let him think that. It wasn’t like his recent assessments of the Avengers had given him any concrete overtures of trust when it came to Loki, even if it seemed there was a general consensus they didn’t want him injuring himself any more to make them feel safer.

“You’re looking a lot better,” Steve said, approaching the bed as Thor handed Loki a drink.

Loki quirked his brow, his engaging persona now in full swing. “Thank you,” he said, and took a few pulls from the straw of the smoothie like it was his solemn duty. “Though I suppose the bar must not be very high, considering.”

“We’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to lower it again,” Steve said, not unkindly.

A stiffness flashed over Loki’s face at the words, but it quickly vanished. “I have no such plans,” he said. 

Like it had been an actual plan last time and not a split second decision that could have killed them both.

_That seems like a rather dramatic assessment._

_You ended up needing a blood transfusion._

Loki almost visibly flinched, his nausea rising sharply at even the idea. _Do not remind me._

“Good to hear,” Steve said, watching as Loki lowered his smoothie into his lap as his appetite disappeared. “Take your time. When you’re done, I’d like to ask you a few questions.” 

Bucky carefully took the box Steve handed him with his metal limb, mentally gearing up for another fight to get food down. “I’ll wait outside.”

“Bucky, stay here,” Steve said, with a subtle note of command. “I meant you, too.”

Bucky paused, only just managing to hold the ice back enough to keep it from shooting down his metal arm and freezing the entire box solid. The temperature in the room nosedived. 

He knew he should have kept his damn mouth shut.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lateness - had my power turned off for a few days and was under evacuation watch again during that time. It's a shorter chapter today, as I broke off a scene to include in the next chapter instead, which also means that one is again mostly done and _should_ be up within a week barring any more power/internet outages/evacuation dangers. 2020 is a virulent year.
> 
> **Edit 11/04: ** And of course I’ve been spending the week preparing for living out of my car during more evacuations - I will likely have multiple during the upcoming rainy season because of wildfire debris flows causing mudslides. The next chapter should be up in a few days but might be longer if it turns out I have to evacuate during the projected rain on Friday/Saturday.

Loki could feel that Bucky did not wish to remain in the room. Besides the rather obvious external response of yet again turning the interior into the equivalent of a frigid winter, he was actively bristling at the order to stay, and seriously contemplating an outright refusal to do so.

Loki reached out through their link, missing the ease of the scepter. _What did you do?_

The response was far too defensive. _Nothing._

_Then why are you envisioning violence towards an unarmed Captain America?_

_I’m not._

_Even I can see the glare on your face._

_That’s just my fucking face._

_My mistake. With such a calm and measured response, how could I have assumed otherwise?_

“I will bring you an extra chair,” Thor said, his voice effectively redirecting the growing tension. 

Loki wondered if his brother had done so intentionally, then just as soon decided that he was giving Thor far too much credit. 

He raised his hand in a gesture to stop him. “No need,” he said, and at Thor’s look of confusion he pulled at his magic, allowing it to come over his hand in a green glow. He reached into his pocket dimension and with an extension of his arm he was able to bring into being the item he sought.

The rich green fabric and carved wood of the chair was a striking contrast to its surroundings. _Sticks out like a sore thumb,_ was the conflicting assessment from Bucky. _Stylish,_ Loki shot back, pleased with himself for his quick thinking in taking the opportunity for an excuse to put it in place.

He did not need to have functional vision to know the look Bucky was sending him was one of long-suffering. But Loki’s choice in using his magic to bring the chair forth had been twofold - he was aching from even that small expenditure, but his power was continuing to quickly strengthen even in the absence of the scepter. He would not risk challenging any of the Avengers with it, but it was there.

That was a comfort to Bucky, who wanted to think his wariness of his former friend was irrational but wanted even more to feel less like he had to completely focus on Loki’s safety as well as his own. 

Bucky approached the chair, and Loki could feel his begrudging gratefulness at the placement that meant he’d have an adequate view of all possible entrances to the room. He had stopped generating cold enough that the room’s heating devices managed to raise it quickly. Whatever technology Stark employed, whether it had been created by him or other sources, was extremely efficient at maintaining a constant temperature even in the presence of Bucky’s overactive power. 

That moment of tension done with, the others began eating. Loki, despite his earlier distress, found his deadened senses still quite able to pick up the savory scents of Thor’s meal. Now that his body had healed enough, it was fast growing louder in its protests of the fact that a meal of liquid was wholly inadequate, even if it was better than simply having nutrients stabbed into his veins. Hunger had been just another source of pain in his captivity, the yawning emptiness in his stomach, soothed only by Pierce until he’d grown used to having a nearly constant supply of his own food available to him after his escape.

He would wait until actively seeking that again. He had already brought the chair forth, and Rogers was expecting recompense in the form of information. And Loki had promised information.

He tried not to allow his eyes to wander while Thor ate directly beside him, willing his stomach to accept the drink he’d been given as satiating enough.

That was until Bucky took his first bite of his own food, and the heavy crunch immediately sent Loki grimacing. He’d forgotten. 

Rogers was quick to take notice. “Is there a problem?”

“No,” Loki answered, then immediately continued drinking with dogged focus. He was certainly no longer preoccupied with Thor’s food.

Bucky, thankfully, quickly swallowed his mouthful, briefly ending the irritation on Loki’s ears. “We don’t usually eat in the same room.” He took another bite through flash frozen bread, and Loki swore he could hear it echoing.

Rogers sounded _amused_. “I guess that is kind of loud.”

Loki made a noise in his throat, nearly choking on his drink in the process. 

“Loki has always been sensitive around the eating habits of others,” Thor said, but it seemed like that fact was pleasing him. “It looks like this is yet another trait that remains unchanged.”

“I am overjoyed,” Loki said flatly, then nearly seized as Bucky bit into his food again, the sound like a stab through his ear drums. “And I wish I was entirely deaf. _Must you_ spread your jaws that widely?”

Bucky gave him a bland look, intentionally taking his time with chewing before swallowing. “I don’t know. You gonna tell me how these things usually eat?”

Loki felt his disgust rise, the thoughts rising unbidden. He could not remember any aspect of the supposed love of his false mother but he still retained hints of the moment where one of his worst nightmares had become real. Jotunheim and its inhabitants were a faded memory, but they were a memory nonetheless.

He wished they had left him, along with everything else. 

“Thor, would you know?” Rogers asked, and Loki struggled not to roll his eyes. 

Thor jerked, taken aback by the question. The pause was too long for his response to be anything promising. “I am afraid not. But we used to joke about it.” He raised his hands into loosely clawed shapes, and Loki’s heart leapt into his throat before he noted it was simply a demonstrative gesture and not an attempt to grab him. “The savage Frost Giants, teeth like daggers, run before they come to eat us all.” He dropped his hands, his levity - thankfully - quick to drain. “Simple games, of course. They were not serious. And it was not always just Frost Giants, who as I’ve said I have since realized are far much more complex.”

Loki stared at Thor, noting the continued guilt in his voice. Guilt for what? It was not as if he had any real knowledge of the behaviors and attitudes of the majority of Frost Giants - his statement of their supposed complexity was entirely conjecture seeing as his only real interest in them was directly connected to Loki. 

Loki preferred it that way.

“Your family adopted one,” Bucky said, taking yet another pause from his horrendous chewing. “You really don’t know their basic biology?”

“They can be resistant to physical injury but are quite susceptible to heat,” Thor said. 

Loki smiled at his brother’s continued thoughtlessness. “Like that which comes from a lightning strike.”

Thor looked startled. He directed his eyes to the scars running down Loki’s arm, clearly visible due to the short sleeves of the shirt the Avengers had given him.

Loki looked back, carefully still. What was Thor thinking, now? Was he imagining Loki’s torture? Realizing the association of his own powers in regards to that particular torment?

Loki sometimes wondered if his captors had taken inspiration from Thor when they’d crafted the cell in which they had imprisoned him. Bucky had been with them for far longer, but there were no hints in his mind of HYDRA using such a room on him, even with his returning memories. 

It had certainly proven to be quite the effective tool. 

“Loki,” Thor said, an undercurrent of something frustrated in his tone. “Brother, you have _nothing_ to fear from me.”

Loki did not immediately respond. There was a thrumming in his limbs that wanted to break free.

The statement should have been comforting. And Loki should have believed in it, wholeheartedly. But instead, something dark and hateful within him began to squirm.

_Liar,_ he thought and did not say. Thor, after all, was free to say what he wished. It would not change the fact of Loki’s current station, or erase the crimes he had performed that led to his punishment.

The ire that lurked within him and habitually rose despite his attempts at caution was a worrying thing. He wondered if that was just another component of his monstrous character. In the echoes of his former self, that same anger had been a blinding rage. 

Loki swallowed roughly and beat it quickly into submission, choosing to withdraw rather than allow it to cast him into danger. He was no fool. He knew when to remain a shadow. If Bucky could wish for companionship without fully giving himself over to those desires, Loki could know fury and hatred and do much the same.

He nodded at Thor, ignored the deeply unsatisfied gaze of his brother that such a response elicited, and quietly resumed his consumption of his drink.

As he did, he could feel the gazes of everyone in the room.

\----------

The lunch that followed was painfully awkward. Loki found himself less able to regain his appetite fully with his memories so close in addition to the continued sounds of Bucky crunching through his meal. He still managed to down the majority of what he had been given, and was rewarded with a visual of Thor’s improved mood in a satisfied nod as the nearly empty container was taken from him. 

Of course, his completion of that meant that they would now begin the next task. He felt the shift in the air when Rogers turned his attention upon him.

“Bucky wants the doctors to take a look at him,” Rogers said, voice even. “He indicated that you talked him into it.”

Loki, who had been picking at his own hands in the absence of anything to hold, directed a look of betrayal at Bucky, before smoothing his expression into placidness. “Is that not what the Avengers are seeking?”

“It is,” Rogers said. Loki noted that though his words were serious, his posture was relaxed. “But he raised some firm boundaries at the time of our deal, and he was holding to those while you were unconscious. Then you woke up, and he suddenly changed his mind.”

“We were allies for over a year before seeking your aid,” Loki said, tone laden with confidence. “He trusts my judgment.”

Rogers looked to Bucky at that. “Is that true?”

Bucky shrugged. “Enough. Most of the time.”

Loki irritably pressed his thoughts into Bucky’s. _Are you trying to encourage them to hate me?_

_I’m not going to lie to Steve._

_As if you possess the capabilities of lying to any of them._

_Which is why I’m not lying to Steve. Now stop fucking straining yourself to communicate - you’re gonna give us both a headache._

“You agreed to his plan to be attacked by Hulk,” Thor said with some reproach.

“No,” Loki said before Bucky could answer. “That was...exclusively my decision.”

Rogers nodded as if that was the response he expected. He leaned back in his seat. “It looked like Bucky was trying to stop it.” He gestured towards Loki’s hands. “I notice you haven’t brought back out the scepter since it happened.”

Loki’s fingers twitched. He separated his hands, letting them rest curled in his lap. “I gathered my obvious wielding of such a weapon while in your care would be frowned upon. You do not carry your shield with you constantly.”

“No, but Bucky said the scepter was helping you.”

What a gross understatement; if Loki had not found the scepter at all, he and Bucky would have long since been returned to whatever dark cells HYDRA would have seen fit to imprison them in. What crumbs Loki had left of himself would very likely be long gone. 

Loki responded flatly. “Power that tremendous would help anyone with the proper knowledge of how to wield it.”

“I just thought you should know - we had a deal,” Rogers said, and was that compassion in his voice? “We’re not planning on backing out of it. But we do need you as sharp as possible so the exchange has meaning. If you’re on our side now, that means the scepter and the Tesseract are on our side, too.”

It _was_ compassion, or near enough. Loki had assumed he would be interrogated. Instead, here was yet more apparent concern for his comfort.

His thoughts began to flit in confusion as he searched for anything underhanded in such a statement. He felt like the jaws of some great and terrible trap were waiting to close on him, remembering Pierce’s often polite and kind demeanour between Loki’s suffered brutalities. 

Uncertainty in his every muscle, he called forth the scepter.

It settled into his hands with a welcome thrum, the stone at its head lighting in a ready glow as it latched eagerly to his magic. The world became clearer, like cresting through murky water. His aches lessened. 

Loki immediately wanted to look at Thor, even though he remained nervous. He desired to see his brother with his own eyes, now that his limited vision had been strengthened. He only allowed himself the briefest of glances, and found that though Thor was listening quietly he was not regarding Loki with any apparent suspicion. It was enough to imprint a longing within him again, and privately he found it hilarious that he could so wish for the company of someone for whom he held a not insignificant amount of terror. 

“You’re breathing easier,” Rogers observed.

Loki had no weaknesses worth guarding. He ran his fingers over the scepter’s long handle. “It aids in strengthening my magic.”

“But not enough to get rid of all of the damage.”

“No,” Loki said, and what did that matter? He could hardly remember a time now when he had been without damage. 

But he thought he was beginning to understand his miscalculation. After his show of humility, they now wanted to know what remained of his strength. If he was simply to remain an injured inhabitant of their compound, the resources needed to devote to his care would soon outweigh his use. It was a change that he was eager for, and not just for the opportunity to be allowed to wield the power the scepter afforded him. 

Loki knew well what happened when his active participation in his own use was found wanting.

“So when Bucky insisted we let you keep it, he was worried about your comfort.”

Loki nearly snorted. What a picture the good Captain was painting of Loki’s partnership with HYDRA’s favored assassin. It was the type of regard that Loki was seeking from his new benefactors, but the idyllic expectations Rogers was foisting upon them were still quite humorous. 

Bucky did not respond to Rogers’ claim - even in his mind the words had brushed over him, the phrase parceled and organized along with his observations of the rest of the Avengers’ opinions. 

Neither of them bothered to correct him. 

“When you came to Earth, you were already holding the scepter,” Rogers said, sending Loki’s humor plunging as his anxiety rose at the reference to his past self. “Do you remember what you used it for?”

Loki breathed out. He kept his hands motionless, his gaze directed at Rogers’ eyes. “I am aware that the scepter has multiple applications.” He swallowed, and spoke firmly. “It is not my aim to retrace any of those wrongdoings. Ever.”

Rogers did not back down at Loki’s attempt at diverting the subject. “It let you control people by getting into their heads.”

There was a pulse of discontent from Bucky. He knew about Barton - he had been unaware that there were others. Only his direct connection with Loki’s mind and the knowledge of his current intents kept him from feeling much worse than that, though Loki was sure he did not imagine the light probe at his thoughts that came in the wake of the Captain’s pronouncement.

“Yes,” Loki said. He felt as if the trap was tightening. He did not precisely remember what Rogers was referring to, but it seemed useless to argue against something that had been directly witnessed. “A fact I am now quite intimate with, as HYDRA spent several months trying to do as much to me.”

Thor growled. “They were attempting to control your mind.”

“They failed,” Loki said, trying not to physically withdraw from his brother’s anger. “I - fought such tampering.” _It was the only thing, it seems, I was successful in fighting._

“Of course they did,” Thor said, as if Loki had performed a mighty feat, instead of grasped at a tiny, useless victory in a sea of losses. “Its power was far beyond them.”

“You were incapacitated when Bucky dragged you out,” Rogers said. He turned to Bucky. “So that means you must have been the one to take the scepter from HYDRA in the first place.”

Loki narrowed his eyes. He disliked this, knowing that there was a reason for the path of such questioning, and having no clue as to what drove its direction. He searched his memories of his attack on Earth, but it was as if he was searching for a single grain of sand buried miles deep beneath the earth.

“It seemed important,” Bucky said, his tone calm though his thoughts began to roil along with Loki’s. “Then he used it to save my ass from a HYDRA soldier ambush, so I wasn’t gonna complain about him using it.”

Rogers nodded - and Loki thought briefly how odd it was, to have someone perform a questioning where they would so often take an answer and accept it, and not seek to prise apart every detail. 

“All right, last question.” He looked directly at Loki. “Bucky said you haven’t used the scepter on him. Is that true?”

Loki stared at Captain Rogers, his lungs filled with an odd tickle. His thoughts he directed to Bucky. _I thought you said you wouldn’t lie to him._

_God, is that what he meant? I had no clue what he was getting at._

_I use the scepter on you frequently and at length._

Bucky responded in aggravation. _That’s not the type of use he’s asking about and you know it._

_And if I lie to him now? Do you think he will believe me?_

_We’re not telling them about the link._

_Why not? Because you are ashamed of it? Or because you know that it compromises our safety?_

Bucky was as tense as a coiled spring. _Because they’ll want to figure out how to fix it._

“Captain,” Loki said, deliberately. “HYDRA altered your friend with my blood. He is no longer human. And he does not share in the same damages that I suffer. Should I ever consider attacking him, such a conflict - even with the scepter - would likely end poorly for me.”

He did not mention that it would end poorly because of their connection, and the fact that unless struck by the same wild split-second inspiration once again, Bucky would have been able to tell such an attack was coming. Or that Loki was unwilling to risk tampering with the mind that was so entwined with his own for fear that he would become even more lost than he already was. 

He felt Bucky’s approval at his response. 

Rogers stared at him carefully. “Okay,” he finally said, sounding a great deal relieved.

Loki tightened his lips, unable to so quickly discount what had just happened. “This exact suspicion was why I felt it best to prove my submission to the Avengers’ might. If there is anything more I can do that would further ease your concerns, you only need say it.”

“No,” Bucky and Rogers said at the same time, and then gazed at each other.

“I had to be sure,” Rogers said, like an apology.

Bucky’s response was gruff. “It’s fine.” He laced his hands together. “But I’m pretty sure all his whining about the damn burger should have tipped you off enough.”

“Keep away from me your next meal and I will not consider implementing the scepter to steer you elsewhere,” Loki said, then grimaced as it was clear no one found that joke amusing. The padding to his power was making him forget himself even when his fears remained close. “I jest, of course. Was that the end to your questioning?”

“Unless there’s something you want to add,” Rogers said.

That had been much less painless than Loki had been expecting, and yet he found himself frustrated for that same reason. But Rogers had gifted him with an opening; he would take it. “You said that I am on your side, along with the scepter and the Tesseract. What precisely do you plan on doing with me?”

“We want you to heal,” Thor said, as if it was obvious. 

“And what lies beyond that healing,” Loki asked. 

Would they keep him in this room? Allow him the courtesy of leaving the door unlocked, so he had the illusion of greater freedom? He would answer any of their future questions, of course, but that was unlikely to be a lengthy process unless they took additional measures to ensure he was telling the truth. 

“We’ll figure it out as we go along,” Rogers said, and to Loki’s confusion his tone had gone downright casual now that his queries had ended. “There’s not really a cut and dried process for joining the Avengers.”

Joining the Avengers.

So that eventuality was still very much on the table. Loki, finally, allowed himself to relax. Bucky eased his tensions in kind.

“We must not allow Fury to claim all vengeance,” Thor said, tone eager. 

His hand came to grasp Loki’s forearm, very near to the scepter. Loki stared down at it, and then up at his brother’s face. This close, in the light of the sun streaming through the dwindling ice wall, he could see him as clear as he would ever manage. 

Thor was _smiling,_ lips stretched in fondness, a growing and genuine warmth in his eyes.

Loki had no memories of anyone ever looking at him like that. Not as a thing, an amusement, or a pawn. Bucky’s gaze was not cruel, but _this,_ this was…

Thor had told him the day he’d woke that he’d loved him for centuries. Loki had not been capable of accepting that statement with anything more than a shallow acknowledgment before, but now…

Now he could almost believe it. He wanted to believe it.

“With every passing day more of HYDRA’s secrets become uncoded,” Thor said, tightening his grasp against Loki’s skin, palm pressed against branching scars. “We will destroy all that remains of them.”

There was a knock on the door.

It surprised Loki so badly that he flinched violently, every muscle going tense as a bow. Bucky was on his feet, at the ready, but remained where he was as Rogers moved to the door first. He opened it.

Stark peered in, lips twisted in awkwardness. His eyes searched, falling on Loki and then the scepter, likely taking in the fact that the blood had all but drained from Loki’s face.

“Hi,” he said, as if their first direct encounter warranted nothing more than a brief greeting when he had so thoroughly startled Loki out of his skin. “Don’t worry, I’m not here for you.” He broke his gaze from Loki with apparent effort, then locked his eyes onto Bucky. “You, on the other hand...” 

He held out his hand, bringing forth a projection above a device wrapped around his wrist. At the distance he was from it Loki was forced to employ the scepter to see the image through Bucky’s eyes. It was a projection that showed Captain Rogers walking down a hallway, his arms full of the boxes of food he had brought for their meal. His head was turned, and his mouth moved as if he was speaking to someone. But there was only empty space at his side.

Loki frowned as Bucky’s mind began to race in shocked confusion.

“Yeah,” Stark said, voice tight. “Can I have a word?”


	8. Chapter 8

What the hell.

What the _hell._

Steve was looking from Stark’s video projection towards Bucky in confusion. Thor stood up, coming over for his own look - without his hammer, Bucky noted.

“There is nothing there,” Thor said, looking at Steve like he was concerned for his mental health.

“Yeah,” Stark said. “Kind of the whole point.”

Bucky could feel Loki linking them closer so he could get a good look at it, too, and the fact quickly turned some of Bucky’s panic into irritation. _Did you cloak me while I was out of the room?_

_No,_ Loki responded, and Bucky cursed internally when he realized that there wasn’t any lie in it. _I would not have strained myself through such an unnecessary action._

That was debatable. Bucky pressed back into Loki’s mind with a sense of urgency that he didn’t normally employ. Loki let him in with no small amount of annoyance, allowing him to go through the points in his memory where Bucky had most recently left him alone with Thor. He saw that Loki hadn’t been focused on anything but his brother in Bucky’s absence. 

Bucky withdrew, reeling. He was used to being uncertain of his own head. He had even come to terms with the fact that he’d been turned into some kind of ice creature in a world not really meant for its comfortable existence.

But _that,_ the empty space next to Steve on the video, was on another level. Stark had accused him of using a spell of invisibility. Bucky had claimed he hadn’t. And he _hadn’t._

So what the hell had happened?

“Don’t worry, Papa Bears,” Stark was saying. “We’ll be just outside. Won’t take more than five.”

_Go,_ Loki urged. _Assuage his fears._

_Assuage _his_ fears._

_I find it odd that you would be so distressed about this happening when you spurned every offer of my tutelage._

_Stop pretending that you expected something like this._

_Even if I did not, there is little point in panicking about it. You did not threaten them. I would be surprised if they were now going to take the opportunity to threaten you._

Bucky clenched his hands, wondering when it was that _Loki_ had become the level head. He glanced back at him, just to reassure himself that the scepter was still in his grip.

“I’ll go,” Bucky said.

Steve turned back to him, the set of his brows relaxing somewhat as he stepped aside. Stark, who looked like he was trying to stare at Loki in his periphery and not be obvious about it, snapped his eyes to Bucky in surprise. 

Bucky stepped out into the hallway with Stark, and the door hadn’t been shut for more than half a second before he spoke in rapid-fire words. “Now, you two left together, so either the dementia of old age has finally set in for our Cap, or someone was with him but not being picked up by the cameras. Ergo, invisible - the nonexistence of which I really thought you were telling the truth about earlier.” 

“I was telling the truth,” Bucky said. He looked down at his body, and then back to the video. “I don’t know how that happened.”

Stark stared at him for a long moment, then sighed, lowering the projection. “I kind of figured you weren’t bullshitting me,” he said. “Look - I understand the hesitance with getting assistance. God knows I’m not the poster boy for rehabilitation and recovery.”

Bucky pressed his lips together as his anger sparked fresh. “I already agreed to let Banner look at me.”

“Yeah, with his eyeballs, which - don’t get me wrong, love the guy, wouldn’t give up those soulful brown orbs for anything - but there’s a reason we as humans constantly improve upon science and technology and it’s not so we can sit around on our asses and not use it to our benefit. And I mean that in the sense of expediting _helpful_ things, I’d really appreciate it if you’d stop looking at me like you’re about to tear my head off with your bare hands.”

Bucky tried to tamp down his response. Instead of coming down on him, Stark was still offering help, even if his confident tone and insistence felt a bit like sandpaper on Bucky’s emotions.

He decided he might as well take advantage of the appearance of continued goodwill. “Did you fix Loki’s legal status?”

Loki, who had been keeping casual attention on the proceedings, immediately took a more pointed interest.

“Well, technically, his official status is that he’s dead right now-”

“Steve said you’re working on it.”

“I can work on several things at the same time, thanks to the aforementioned science and technology.” Stark broke off at that, then looked like he was bracing himself. “Look, I know this isn’t what you’re going to want to hear, but I’ve been running the numbers and it might be better in the long run if we...left things as they were. For now.” He raised his hands placatingly as Bucky clenched his fists. “_Just_ for now. Look, HYDRA’s effectively toast, and in no small part thanks to the thorough clean up job you two were doing over the last year. But that wasn’t a gentle removal. There’s still a lot of gaping wounds in the rest of the world, a lot of paranoia and fear and a prodigious amount of coded information that a lot of parties are sifting through. I have people testing the waters, but if we move too fast we’re running the risk of blaring the fact that we’re harboring a well-known war criminal before he gets switched out of severely limited protections.” He lowered his hands. “The irony is that SHIELD recruitment would have been our ace in the hole for that process, if they hadn’t gone down with the whole fascist ship.”

_Convenient,_ Loki thought, with no hint of surprise. _Now they can leave the collars sitting upon our throats for as long as they wish._

Stark’s voice went even more placating. “Barnes, I promise, if Loki ends up being even halfway sincere about who was really behind that army, it’s not going to be forever. It’s just that all the terrible shit that happened to him with HYDRA doesn’t change the fact that he was front and center in actively and _joyfully_ attempting a massive war with Earth a few years ago. That’s not something that just gets swept under the rug.”

Even with Loki’s continuous suspicious interpretations swirling at a steady speed in the back of his mind, Bucky couldn't see the lie if Stark was telling one.

So he asked the question he hadn’t bothered to pursue before now. “And what about me?”

Stark grimaced. “Better,” he said, then shook his head. “But not by much. Although, again, it’s kind of hazy about the life or death status of you currently for the general population. I promise you guys came to the right place, especially if you’re looking for a hard conversion from the rampant murdering. You are planning that, right? Because it kind of looks like you’re reconsidering that plan, a lot of the time.”

“I only kill HYDRA agents,” Bucky said, and in that moment he found he really, _really_ missed it. 

“Good,” Stark said, and he actually sounded genuinely relieved, even if Bucky’s expression couldn’t have had much improvement. “You’ve already got the team spirit.” His eyes flicked to the door, and he swallowed. “Loki looks...well, he looks fucked to hell, no way of getting around that. But the shared smurf juice seems to have at least perked him back up a little. Any idea of when he’ll be ready for circle time?”

Bucky frowned, confused by Stark’s hesitance. “Why don’t you ask him?”

“Yeah,” Stark said. “That would be the logical approach, wouldn’t it?” He didn’t make any moves towards the door.

Loki’s confusion threaded through Bucky’s mind. _Does he really fear me? Even still?_

_I don’t know._

_Perhaps I should have reconsidered which members would require the most convincing._

_Give it a goddamn rest already. Everyone’s been telling you they don’t need any more convincing._

_It is not their words I am concerned with but the actions that lay behind them. He wants information. I have information for him._

_We still have to plan for my examination with Banner and I need you in functional shape for that._

Stark put his hands in his pockets, briefly directing his gaze to the floor as he rocked back on his heels. “Also logical would be to wait for the guy to be regularly standing on his own before we risk any severe straining of any injuries. Right?” He smiled, but it looked more like a grimace. “Since it looked like he was nearly going to shit his pants just from seeing me peek into the room.”

The small hint of indignation from Loki was overtaken by his relief. _Ah. Never mind._

Bucky didn’t feel the same relief. He belatedly realized he’d instinctively taken a wider stance against the door.

Stark didn’t seem offended. “No worries, literal Winter Soldier,” he said. “We’ll do a rain check. I’m _choosing_ to believe that your buddy in there wouldn’t have taken a huge Hulk-smash break so soon after contacting us if he thought the threat was any kind of imminent.” He waved one hand in the air as he turned to walk away. “Hopefully the armies of space do the polite thing and don’t start raining hellfire down on us until next week.”

Bucky waited until Stark was well out of sight before he went back in. 

\----------

Dinner ended up being just as awkward as lunch, with Loki withdrawn and having a handful of awful associations while at the same time forcing another smoothie down and refusing to give voice to the fact that he was actually starting to feel hungry for solid food again.

The awkwardness wasn’t helped by the fact that Steve tried to use the time to connect with Bucky about their past, and whenever Bucky gave confirmation of his knowledge of the memories Steve was touching on, Thor would look more and more pained. His gaze on Loki was progressively frustrated and sad, which made Loki play the part of a gentle and understanding sibling to the max. 

The sun set, leaving the room to grow darker and darker, until Loki used the scepter to light it. The glow of the gem was a good cover for how he was simultaneously using the scepter to repeatedly dip into Bucky’s sight and double check Thor’s responses.

Steve was the first to leave. Bucky carefully deflected when he offered to take the box of half-eaten dinner to throw away for him on his way out. 

Thor stayed for another hour, going over another story of his past with Loki. It started fine, but as it went on Thor had to check himself repeatedly as the tactics in the heroic tale ended up extolling the virtues of his own strength a lot more than they acknowledged anything of Loki’s part in it. In fact, the nearer they got to the end, the more Thor struggled visibly to remember exactly what it was that Loki had contributed, to the point that Bucky nearly deadpanned that it was sounding a lot like _Thor_ was the one who’d had his memory erased. 

Thor remembered the ending, though - which had involved him straight up just using Loki’s body as a weapon and throwing him into their enemies to take them down. 

“It was mostly your idea,” Thor said, as if that made it any better.

“Was it,” Loki responded evenly, his thoughts heavy with disbelief. He gave a small smile. “It sounds as if we were very lucky with your exact execution of the plan.”

Thor paused, squinting at Loki with a deep frown. 

Loki, who was seeing the expression clearly through Bucky’s eyes, had an immediate jump in anxiety. “I am sorry for the fact that I do not personally remember the events of such a joyful tale,” he continued, voice carefully calm and smooth. “But thanks to you, I now have knowledge of it.”

Loki wasn’t even completely lying about that, but he wasn’t being driven right now but anything but the desire to convince Thor. Bucky wanted to look away, ignore them, but without the benefit of his better sight Loki’s reactions around Thor would have been worse. So he kept his attention forward.

“You are welcome,” Thor said, but only looked even more concerned as he did. 

“Perhaps tomorrow you might tell me another,” Loki said, plowing ahead like he hadn’t noticed. His tone remained friendly. “I have a great many of my own experiences to catch up on.”

At the invitation and Loki’s relentless mask of eagerness, Thor’s expression finally eased. “I look forward to it.” He lifted his hammer, his chest moving in a sigh as he rose from his seat. “Rest well, brother.” He gave Bucky a passing nod as he left the room.

When he was gone, Loki stared at the closed door, relieved that he didn’t have the stress of performing for Thor anymore. At the same time, he wanted him back, irritations and all.

Bucky reached down for the box of food still sitting under his seat, setting it on the bed. “Don’t give me that look,” he said when Loki peered up at him sharply. He settled back into the big green chair, ignoring Loki’s usual rotation through the feelings that came from being offered food by someone else. “Well, now your brother’s probably going to be back first thing in the morning.”

Loki stared dubiously at the container, still not eating even though his hunger was starting in earnest at the proximity. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“You’re supposed to be staying in contact while I have my examination.”

Loki shook his head. “We need not be concerned with Thor. His interests are that I obey and listen to him - he has little worry for my brandishing of a weapon of such power.”

“He’s been pissing you off,” Bucky pointed out. “When he’s not terrifying you. He’s a distraction.”

Loki raised his eyebrows, his gaze finally breaking away from the box in his lap. “So you seek confirmation of my continued composure while you fear losing your own.”

“If everything goes according to plan I won’t lose my own.” Bucky held out his hand. “Call my bags back.”

Loki stared at Bucky, his scarred eyes narrowing. For the first time he was actually paying attention to the added variable in Bucky’s plan. 

When he realized, revulsion fired on all cylinders in his head. “I thought you could not administer them into yourself.”

“I might have figured out a workaround while you were out,” Bucky said. He swallowed. “My skin turned normal. Like when I was...me. I couldn’t hold it for long, but it happened.”

Loki looked taken aback. He scanned over Bucky’s face. “You are saying you shapeshifted.”

Bucky blinked at the word. “What?”

Loki gestured towards him, indicating his body. “You changed the very biology of your physical form at will.”

“Is that what it is?” Bucky leaned forward so Loki could see him better. He hadn’t expected that Loki would open up about this - the lack of a firm wall of disgust and hatred encouraged his interest. “Is that what _you_ do?”

“It does not require any concentration for me to hold,” Loki said, and if he was talking he still wasn’t quite as keen on the subject as Bucky. “But then, your alteration by HYDRA was a haphazard process.”

“Yeah, I get it - you’re the epitome of perfection,” Bucky muttered, his eagerness deflating with Loki’s mention of HYDRA’s experiments. That was an area that would either have them arguing or Loki withdrawing - or both. “And I notice you still haven’t given me my bags.”

Loki went quiet. Intent. Bucky hadn’t seen him look like that since they’d planned their raid on Fury’s base. “Show me.”

Bucky felt surprised that Loki was continuing the subject. Usually it was a snowball effect whenever Loki started to think too much about those two years. 

He still hesitated in responding, remembering the sting.

“I can guide you,” Loki said with confidence.

Now Bucky was suspicious. “Why, because you don’t like looking at me because you have a fucked up sense of hatred towards a species you don’t even really remember?”

Loki kept up that severe stare. “Because if you have the capability, learning to exercise your power is another advantage. It will mitigate your anxiety from your lack of control over your magic.” He cocked an eyebrow. “And, yes - it will also fix a great many things about your appearance.”

Bucky glanced at the wall of ice, which had patches thinned enough now that there were holes starting in them. The air coming in from outside felt too warm.

Loki pressed him. “How did you begin last time?”

“I was looking at your unconscious body,” Bucky said, turning back. “Wondering how you stayed looking the way you do. Panicking because Stark was sure you’d caused more permanent damage to yourself, and I was starting to believe him.”

Loki blinked. Then he blinked again, his brow furrowing as if he’d just been presented with a puzzle. 

“And don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t have risked that,” Bucky said.

“Well, it would seem that thanks to you, such an occurrence did not come to pass.”

“I didn’t want anything to do with it. I attacked Stark and almost ruined your entire insane plan before you even woke up.”

Loki didn’t look accusatory at the pronouncement. Instead, he was staring at Bucky like he was finally seeing him for the first time. “But you bent when it was asked of you.”

“If that’s what you want to call it,” Bucky said.

Loki straightened his posture, the pain mild enough at this point that he was able to hold the position without it ramping up. “Well, since we will not be replicating that occurrence, we should figure out an alternative method.”

“You’re saying we when you actually mean _you_,” Bucky said. “Our heads are connected - why don’t you just give me a play by play of how it feels when you change?”

“Feeling it and actually performing the act are two different situations,” Loki said, as if it should have been obvious. “My magic is deeply ingrained within me. It saw such extensive use that even without any true memory of such events I know its uses and its limits, just as you were able to recall your own skills and retain your reflexes despite HYDRA’s ruination of your mind. A beginner does not benefit from immediately jumping to the master’s level of teachings.”

“I’d still come away from it with something,” Bucky argued. “Come on. Just do it once. Back and forth, and then I can give it my best shot.”

Loki exhaled harshly through his nose. Instead of outright refusing, he gave a sharp nod. 

On top of everything, Bucky was actually genuinely curious - he’d only seen Loki change a few times, and every occasion had been from direct contact between the two of them. It had never been a voluntary transition on Loki’s part.

Loki closed his eyes. Bucky felt the temperature change before he registered the color. Blue stretched over his skin, lines of ridges springing up on his face. When he opened his eyes, they retained their star-shaped cataracts, only now they were a milky pigment against a rich red.

Other than the color, Loki didn’t even look that different. The same lichtenberg scars branched over his body. His bone structure was the same, his hair hanging in the same inky black waves above his shoulders. And even the color wasn’t even that shocking anymore - not after Bucky had spent enough time seeing something similar when he looked at himself.

Loki was very carefully keeping his gaze forward. He stared back at Bucky, as if daring him to judge, while all along he was lashing his own judgments at himself.

Bucky reached out with his flesh hand; Loki warily watched it approach, and ended up directing his gaze to his own skin. He got an unwanted eyeful of the darkened nails and the angular patterning of the ridges spreading from down his bare forearm.

_Ugly, bestial, evil,_ came Loki’s thoughts.

_Monster._

Bucky gripped into Loki’s wrist, clenching down hard when he instinctively tried to pull away. When Loki’s glare came Bucky looked him in the eyes, letting him note that none of the same thoughts were coursing through Bucky’s mind, and they weren’t going to.

“How the hell can you still expect I’m going to hate this part of you after everything that’s happened?”

Loki’s face twitched. “Would your life not be easier had it not?”

“My life would be easier if a lot of things hadn’t happened.” Bucky let go, leaning back in the chair, letting his posture slump. He felt all of one hundred years old. “It wasn’t you who injected me with that serum.”

Loki lowered his eyes, rotating his hand, now openly examining his own blue skin. His disgust at the change had dwindled, and instead was slowly being overcome by a sense of loss. 

Bucky’s guilt pulsed in his chest. 

Loki looked up at Bucky again sharply, rage again piercing his expression. “I do not need your pity.”

“Just the Avengers’,” Bucky couldn’t help but say. There was a jump in Loki’s anger, and Bucky sighed. “Change back,” he said, dropping the subject. “Let me watch how you do it.”

That request was fulfilled a lot more hastily than the others. Loki’s hands went first, sliding back to pale skin, like he was a photo being desaturated. The red drained from his eyes, the ridges receding, leaving only the scars.

He still looked unhappy, but not as strongly as he had been a moment before. “I believe it is now your turn.”

Bucky adjusted his positioning in preparation. Loki had been right about the way he changed being insanely advanced by comparison - it had been as easy as the flick of a switch, like he acknowledged he wanted each of his cells to alter their existence and they just listened. Bucky’s change had come with straining, and concentration, and pain. Maybe it always would. 

But Loki had done something that had made _him_ uncomfortable, and it was Bucky’s turn to reciprocate.

It started like it did with Loki - hand first. Even though Bucky had just the one that required any alteration, it was like someone was pressing a rag against his skin that had been dipped in boiling water and not given even half enough time to cool. He lost his hold on it almost immediately, the blue pigment stretching back over, along with a sense of relief at the lack of pain.

Loki shook his head. “You are attempting to brute force open a door that you have the keys to. The magic is connected to your physical body, but shapeshifting is an act of subtlety and not strength. Calling your magic in excess for something so simple is needlessly exhausting and damaging you. Focus your power’s direction rather than its abundance.”

Bucky shook out his tingling hand, his uncertainty rising as Loki’s explanation and dismissal of his previous strategy just left him feeling even less like he knew what he was doing.

The second time it progressed even less than the first. The third time he ground his teeth, pulling at the magic like trying to line up a rifle shot, and managed to make it halfway up his forearm before he nearly lost his hold again at the way his skin burned. Instead of reverting completely, he scrambled to regain control, his heart pumping his blood in frantic beats as he struggled to pull the magic through him, focusing on the lines of his muscles instead of the desperate intense wave he’d tried to cause before.

He hated it. It made him nauseous, like back when he’d been slowly transforming and his body had been struggling to cope. Loki changed quickly but even going off his instructions Bucky had to fight tooth and nail over long seconds to turn himself, and his every organ knew it, and reacted to its neighbor’s transition. He only just managed not to vomit.

Loki watched him carefully through every second, cataloguing his progress, sending firm reprimands when he felt Bucky teetering back into trying too much to force more power to hurry the process. The ice powers and physical strength Loki could have cared less about, but he acted like a failure on Bucky’s part to accomplish this specific thing would have been a grave personal insult.

Eventually, Loki trailed off in his commands. His face slackened like he was startled. Bucky was panting, his right hand going numb, and it took him a minute to realize it was because the room was _cold._

It took effort to hold, but it didn’t feel as wrong as it had the first time. He stared at the smooth skin of his arm, and the clear nails that were now the same color as the rest of him. His breath made a very slight fog when he exhaled. The metal arm felt like a glacier had been grafted to him.

“Well, fuck,” he said, running the pads of his fingers over his forehead and down the line of his jaw. Abruptly, he reached for the box at Loki’s lap and pulled free a slice of apple garnishing the side salad. It crunched in his mouth without freezing solid. 

He was able to hold the change for longer than the first time. When he reverted, instead of the dead skin sloughing off of him and leaving raw sores, there were only minor burns that healed quickly. “That’s definitely going to make dosing myself easier.”

“Yes,” Loki said. “About that.”

“Don’t,” Bucky said flatly. “You’re not the one who needs to deal with it.”

“If we are staying in contact through the scepter then I most certainly will be. I will feel your mind slow.”

“It’ll still be in my body, not yours. You can back off from my head when you need to.”

Loki’s nostrils flared. He pulled Bucky’s bags from his pocket dimension, reluctantly handing them over.

Bucky took them, careful to not open them around Loki, knowing just the sight of needles was enough to make him react. He put them down so it was clear he wasn’t planning on opening them yet. “Banner’s not going to be the only doctor there.”

Loki tilted his head, curious. “Who else?”

“Does it matter?” Bucky laced his fingers together. “They were talking to someone when you were under. They said her name was Doctor Cho.”

“A human?”

“I’m guessing.”

“A human would be at greater risk from your frost giant flesh. Your drugs were not foolproof for your old masters and they will likely not be any better here.”

Bucky had figured that. He leveled a look at Loki, his hands clenching hard against each other. “You got any better ideas?”

Loki did. And Bucky knew what it was, even without the benefit of their link. The brief glance Loki made down towards the scepter made it clear enough.

Bucky went still, suddenly very keyed in on Loki’s state of mind. He didn’t _seem_ like he would be that stupid, but then, he still managed to surprise Bucky sometimes with the shocking hairpin turns of his thoughts and actions.

“You try to touch me with that thing and I’ll rebreak your ribs,” Bucky threatened, just in case. “And then eat next to you at every meal for a fucking month.”

“I didn’t say I was going to do it,” Loki said, unimpressed by Bucky’s threat. “Simply that it is a better idea.”

“And when it ended with both of us turning into drooling catatonic zombies?”

“You do not know that.”

“I’m not putting anything on the line here, and definitely not from the guy who thought an acceptable risk was to directly invite a beating from the Hulk.”

Loki sighed, rolling his eyes. “You are still going on about that.”

Bucky didn’t think it was worth being flippant over. “You’re still stuck in bed from that.”

Before, Loki would have responded with dismissal or pointed out how his plan had gotten them this far this quickly. But now he was thinking about the stress Bucky had gone through while he’d been unconscious, and connecting it to how he had been responding since he’d woken up.

In the early days, Bucky had thought about killing Loki more than a few times. 

More recently, he’d threatened to leave him behind.

That didn’t mean he wanted it.  
Loki sobered up. He leaned back against the pillows, running his fingers idly over the scepter. “You are truly this concerned.”

It was Bucky’s turn to roll his eyes. “I won’t be if you just do your part.” He nodded towards the box still in Loki’s lap, and the food untouched inside. “You want me to go guard the door?”

“No,” Loki said, the last of the tension in his shoulders leaving. “You may stay.” He reached behind himself and took one of his many pillows in hand, tossing it to Bucky. “Take rest. I will perform the watch tonight.”

Like when they’d been on the run, when Loki had first gotten the scepter and Bucky had spent a few nights unable to do anything but shiver and puke his own guts out. He didn’t remember much of those nights except for brief images of Loki, still rail-thin and half-broken, sitting by the light of the scepter’s gem. 

With a lingering sense of deja vu, he set himself up on the floor in a corner. The ice that made up the fourth wall to the room was now just a thin sheet, the ground around it soaked. Bucky knew most of it would be gone the next day if he didn’t reinforce it. They’d have to move rooms. Or he’d have to gather the nerve to ask Stark to fix it - institute the lockdown protocol he’d told Bucky about. 

He fell asleep before he could decide what he wanted.


	9. Chapter 9

Wilson dropped off breakfast in the morning. 

He didn’t look entirely comfortable to be there, dressed in a thick sweater and pants, awkwardly holding his offerings. “How do you want me to hand these over?”

Bucky held out his metal hand, taking the drinks and setting them in the crook of his arm before grabbing the plate. 

Wilson didn’t immediately leave. Instead, he folded his arms and stared at Bucky with a frown. Bucky considered shutting the door in his face so he could go eat in peace, but in the end he just stood there and waited. 

Finally, Wilson jerked his chin forward. “You still going in for that exam?”

Bucky’s grip on the plate grew dangerously tight. “Is Banner calling me down?”

Wilson shook his head. “I was just asking you. I haven’t seen him myself.”

So Bucky had just taken a huge shot of adrenaline for nothing. “I’ll go when he asks for me.”

“Okay,” Wilson said. He looked down the hall for a moment, then took in a deep breath. “Look, I’m not gonna waste your time with small talk. But you do know you don’t have to stay in this room for the rest of your life, right?”

Bucky didn’t respond. Of course he knew that. Did Wilson think he wasn’t making an informed decision keeping an eye on the room?

“We’ve got downtime,” Wilson said. “Which means a lot more sessions of official Avenger field training exercises led by Captain America. Or if you prefer to work solo, there’s an entire floor rigged up for simulations. Could help get some of that twitchy energy out.”

_Why the hell are you telling me this,_ Bucky wanted to ask. 

“Just think about it,” Wilson said. He raised his eyebrows meaningfully, eyes skittering over Bucky’s readied stance. “It’s a way better alternative than taking it out on any of us.”

He walked away, leaving Bucky to wonder if he should start taking bets on which Avenger was going to come and give him a one-on-one talking to next. 

Bucky went back into the room, and found that he had absolutely no appetite. He wordlessly handed Loki the plate and the smoothie, and sat back in the chair and fought against a growing undercurrent of violent urges. He wasn’t sure if it was Wilson’s suggestion that had brought it out, or the stress cycle that had been rotating between him and Loki since he’d woken up. Whatever the reason, it wasn’t going away, which just made him all the more glad that he was going to take the initiative to dampen it.

When Banner’s summons finally came, it was a relief. Especially since they came from Thor while he was on his way in, which meant Bucky had the excuse to leave before Loki interacted with his brother.

He reached his metal hand into his pocket, grasping at a vial. _Stay out of my head for a few minutes,_ he told Loki. 

_Gladly,_ came the response, and the walls sharply went up.

Bucky pulled the syringe free, then just as quickly hid it again when he rounded the corner. 

Steve was waiting for him at the elevator. Out of uniform, wearing a grey athletic shirt and black track pants. 

_Should have taken those bets,_ Bucky thought. He had paused, hesitant at the idea of being around Steve while his head was feeling like it was a writhing bed of nails that wanted to lash out at everything around him.

“Sorry,” Steve said, looking a little guilty. “I know you don’t need an escort. I was actually on my way out when I ran into Thor.”

Bucky took one breath, then two. He walked the rest of the way to the elevator, letting Steve call it for them. 

“You’re leaving the compound,” Bucky said when they stepped in together.

“Just going for a run,” Steve said. “I’ll be in contact.” He looked sidelong at Bucky. “Unless you want me to stay?”

Bucky shook his head in a quick refusal. The heat was still strong in his head but at least it wasn’t overtaking his responses. “I don’t even want me to stay.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you are,” Steve said. “I know this can’t be easy for you.” 

Bucky couldn’t see how the hell the entire situation would be easy on any of them. He pressed his lips into a thin line and gazed down at the floor, his hands still itching. He could see Steve looking at his metal arm in his periphery, and Bucky curled his fingers, forcibly suppressing any response.

“The compound’s got a pretty decent gym,” Steve said, looking back forward. 

Bucky wondered if Steve was trying as hard as Thor was to cover up how he was feeling. “Wilson told me.”

“We were thinking of hitting it this evening. If you wanted to join...”

Bucky thought with the way he was feeling now, being somewhere he was meant to intentionally exert himself with people nearby was probably the worst decision he could make. 

But it wasn’t totally unappealing.

“Maybe,” he answered.

Steve seemed heartened by the response, as noncommittal as it was. The doors to the elevator opened. “This is my floor,” he said, smiling slightly as he stepped out, walking backwards so he could make eye contact with Bucky for a few more moments. “I’ll see you for lunch. Maybe I’ll see if I can find Loki some ear plugs.”

When the doors closed again, any lightness Bucky felt from the interaction faded as he pulled the syringe back out. 

By the time the doors reopened, his back was against the wall and his body was in between forms, pale skin sweating and blue skin frosting. He struggled to aim the change instead of shove it through with force. The sting of the needle when he succeeded was almost secondary to his struggle with the transformation’s discomfort.

No one was around in the hallway beyond, and he told himself he didn’t particularly care if Stark saw what he was doing through the cameras. And if he did care, for all he knew he had probably just made himself accidentally invisible to detection again anyway. 

He felt the effects of the drugs quickly. As they moved through his body, the majority of his anxiety faded, like he was floating beneath the water and all of his problems were above the surface - visible, but blurred by ripples.

He almost didn’t notice by the time the blue skin completely overtook him again. Or when Loki began to tentatively press their minds back together, clearly hoping he wasn’t jumping in while Bucky still had the needle in his skin. 

_You’re in the clear,_ Bucky thought. Loki responded to the direct communication with a wave of sharp repulsion. Bucky tried to project his new calm onto him. _It’s fine. This is better._

Loki’s disgust shuddered through their link. _Stop that,_ he ordered, the words wavering oddly as he ripped himself back from Bucky’s head. The next communication was faint but firm. _I am burning those drugs free of your blood as soon as you return._ He withdrew completely, leaving Bucky to travel alone. 

It wasn’t as hard to walk through the compound this time, though Bucky still made the attempt for a measure of caution. So much of the building was open spaces and clear glass walls and even sometimes glass floors. Bucky wondered if that meant the designers had thought the building was especially secure anyway or if they had made it that way so they would better know if it _wasn’t_. 

He soon reached a division of the building where the glass walls revealed computers and steel counters waiting among a range of other less recognizable devices. The monitors were all powered down, which was good, because even dosed Bucky wasn’t sure if he’d’ve been able to keep from completely destroying them if they hadn’t been. That violence from earlier was still there, churning steadily under his skin.

Stark was visible through the glass in an adjoining lab, tinkering next to large metal arm extensions that rose from the floor. He looked up and made eye contact with Bucky, giving him a tight nod and a wave before he went back to whatever he was doing. He was dressed in civilian clothes, but Bucky still wondered if he had intentionally placed himself there in case backup was needed.

Banner was already present at Bucky’s destination, wearing a purple collared shirt and no lab coat. He looked up from a notebook, looking somewhat surprised to see that Bucky had arrived. 

To the side, a woman in a blue sweater was staring at Bucky with a deep frown, an elbow resting in the palm of her opposite hand. She was standing next to a padded table that had some sort of arch of metal hovering at its head. 

If he hadn’t been drugged, Bucky knew his reaction to the sight of it would have gotten her killed. Which, in turn, would have gotten him killed. As it was, his heart did an odd pulsing movement in his chest, like it was thinking of pounding against his ribcage, before it settled on a pace that was only moderately faster than normal. He still thought about the sound of breaking bones and the sight of skin blackening beneath his frost.

_Maybe pull back more,_ he thought towards Loki. _You’re being too intense._

_Am I meant to stay in contact or am I meant to break connection?_

_I keep seeing a fight. I don’t need that in my head._

_You drugged yourself,_ Loki responded in aggravation. _Your inhibitory control over your own thoughts has been weakened._

Bucky frowned. He glanced towards Stark through the windows, sure that he’d been watching him again. _I feel fine._

_As someone who is being forced to engage with your mind while it is degraded, I can assure you that you very much do not._

_You sure it’s not just you?_

_Oh, for - you _do _realize you are just standing there while they gape?_

Bucky stopped communicating with Loki, looking forward. The doctors were watching him with frown lines.

Okay. Maybe he’d overdone it a little. But he’d wanted to be thorough.

He knew if there was an actual negative stimulus he’d still respond effectively.

Loki came back sharply. _The idea is for you to not respond._

Bucky found he could still summon some frustration. _Then stop thinking about how satisfying it would be if I hurt them._

A thin thread of fear stung his head. _Focus your mind onto mine. Do you honestly think such thoughts would come from me? Now? What of your previous bemoaning of my obsequious behavior?_

Loki was being truthful, as far as Bucky could tell. It just made him feel off-balance. Confused. 

But even if the thoughts of violence were still circulating, the emotions attached to them didn’t seem to be that disruptive.

He set a vial of drugs down on a counter with his metal hand, then took a step back.

“Thanks,” Banner said, blinking at him from behind his glasses. He gripped at the vial, clutching it gently between his hands. “We’ll just do a quick analysis and then we should be able to get started.” He moved to the other side of the room. Bucky intentionally didn’t look at what he was doing.

“You took them already,” the woman said.

Bucky gave her a brief nod, before turning his gaze forward. 

She sighed, lowering her arms to her sides. “I’m Doctor Cho,” she said, which Bucky had already figured. “Did the others tell you what I do?”

Bucky shrugged. It didn’t really matter. 

“I’m a geneticist,” she said. “I use bio-organic material to heal people.”

She was speaking slowly, like he was stupid. The irritation he felt was dim. “I don’t think this is something that can be healed.”

Her brow was creased, a sadness to her eyes. “If it was, would you want it to be?”

If it was up to Bucky, he would have never met with another doctor for as long as he lived. He couldn’t even particularly remember why he was here in the first place, beyond the fact that the Avengers and Loki had all been aiming him in this direction.

He shrugged again. Neutral responses were the best when he wasn’t being directly guided to a proper answer.

Stark kept looking at him repeatedly from the next room over. When Bucky glanced at him in unease Doctor Cho turned, then sighed in aggravation and shook her head.

“Stark,” she said under her breath, messing with some sort of electronic pad near the windows.

Bucky tensed, his eyes going instinctively to the halo over the table in expectation. But all that happened was glass windows dividing the labs frosted over, blocking Stark from view and giving them more privacy.

Bucky wasn’t sure if that made it better or not. Now he knew Stark was nearby but couldn’t keep an eye on him.

Doctor Cho moved over to Banner. Bucky stayed firmly where he was, his head keeping up that constant thread of disjointed aggression. It wasn’t getting any stronger, but it still made him wish they could just get the examination over with in case there was the chance it would.

“It’s not as bad as I was expecting,” Doctor Cho proclaimed. Bucky guessed their analysis was already complete. “Under other circumstances I would think the doses were extreme, but I can’t see anything that would interact badly. His enhanced metabolism probably makes it a short-lived effect.”

“Where do you want me,” Bucky asked, his impatience getting the better of him. 

“Uh,” Banner said, his eyes going to the padded table for a minute before they quickly launched away. He found a metal stool near the counter. “Here,” he said, dragging the stool forward.

Bucky took a seat on it, and found it was different enough that there wasn’t any significant increase in his physiological responses. The view of the frosted windows was actually helping now, giving him somewhere to look that wasn’t piles of unknown devices and machines. 

He sought out Loki. _You still there?_

_Yes,_ came the strained response. _Unfortunately._

For the first time he started thinking that maybe he could do this. 

\---------

Loki was uncertain if he could do this. 

Going into Bucky’s mind was now like venturing into a pool of thickened mud that tried to suction him into its depths when he so much as dipped in a single foot. Even when he allowed it to drag him down fully, what he saw when he was inside was enough to have him thrashing back out before the thrill of panic could completely overtake him. 

The table was without restraints. The shining counters were without tools to cut and drill. That did not stop the general aesthetic of the Avengers’ laboratory from bringing about a deep and primal fear stirring in his breast, and one that was only dimly shared by his compromised companion.

What was more disturbing was that every time he lowered the walls between their minds, he was met with intense urges for dispensing grievous bodily harm. They grasped at him just as heavily as the mire of Bucky’s drugged haze, forcing him to struggle to control his own thoughts. 

He’d known he should have insisted Bucky endure the examination unaltered.

“Loki, are you all right?”

And of course, Bucky had been right about the added difficulty in Thor’s presence, but not for the reason that he’d thought. Loki was grateful to have such a distraction, but the amount of effort required in keeping his composure around his brother was not slight.

“You are not touching your smoothie.”

Loki had already eaten Bucky’s portion of breakfast without Thor’s knowledge, and sharply thought at that moment he would prefer to throw the smoothie against the wall and watch it shatter rather than drink it. But was that inclination from him, or the flames of violence spreading into his mind from Bucky?

Perhaps he should consider calling this off before something more serious had the potential of occurring. 

“_Loki._ Are you in pain?”

Loki shook his head, trying to carefully extricate himself from the dredges of Bucky’s mind without releasing their connection completely. “I was lost in thought,” he somehow said without giving away his turmoil. “I still possess those in abundance.”

“Oh, well - that’s not so unusual.” The light jab was followed by an awkward silence. Loki wondered if the novelty of having his brother back was beginning to wane on Thor. “Do you have any requests for tales?”

Thor was thoughtlessly leaving the decision open to him when Loki didn’t have the capacity to do more than ask for a broad subject and hope he managed to hit close to some sort of mark in their shared past. He could ask about specific people, now that he was aware of more of the lives that had been around him during his upbringing. But tales of their adventures with Thor’s friends so far had so far never failed to make his teeth ache, and speaking on Frigga, while pleasant to Loki in the abstract, always made Thor more distressed.

At the lingering silence, Thor said, “Or what if this time you told me one?”

Loki felt his face spasm as his rage stirred. The way Thor was acting felt false and desperate, but Loki did not have enough information upon which to judge this assumption.

He straightened against the pile of pillows at his back, running the palm of his hand over the scepter’s smooth surface. “Perhaps I could find some inspiration for one,” he allowed. “You’ll have to forgive me, since I know of only a few subjects, beyond the hints of memories from before that I can still recall. I may also...take liberties, with the setting and characters.”

Thor had taken to sitting as close to Loki as possible, having noticed it helped Loki to better focus on him. Between that and the scepter’s enhancement of his senses, Loki was able to at least somewhat see the wariness drifting over his brother’s expression. 

“Whatever you need to speak, I will listen,” Thor said, but there was an oddness to the words, like he had misgivings in voicing them. 

Loki dropped his gaze, staring into the glow of the scepter’s stone. The burning line that seethed beneath his emotions was gripping into him like a parasite.

“There was once a mouse in a box,” he began.

\----------

Doctor Cho handed Bucky a clipboard. “I have a series of tests to conduct in order of expected utility,” she said, indicating the list attached to it. “All samples will be incinerated upon completion of these tests. No data will be kept. It’s going to be slow, and ineffective compared to if I had full use of my best equipment. But if you need us to stop at any time, for any reason, you can tell us.”

Bucky nodded. He glanced over the list, mostly disinterested in what it contained. There wasn’t really a rating system when it came to his dislike of procedures, and he hadn’t been worried about any kind of specific handling as much as he had been the gathering of knowledge at all.

“Is there anything on it that you think you will be uncomfortable with? Anything you need explained?”

Bucky resisted the urge to shrug again. He handed the clipboard back. “No,” he responded. It was true - everything was probably going to rate about the same. If anything was going to set him off harder than something else, he probably wouldn’t know until the act was already in progress.

That was part of why he’d insisted on dosing himself.

“It’ll probably go quicker than you think,” Banner said, with a slightly excited smile that he directed towards Doctor Cho. “She’s um, pretty amazing.”

That level of eagerness was a reaction that set off alarms in Bucky’s head, but the violent undercurrent stayed disconnected enough that he knew he wasn’t in danger of acting on it just yet.

Doctor Cho raised her eyebrows with a light sigh, the corners of her lips turned up. “I’m more amazing when I don’t have to revert to the dark ages of medicine.” She turned away. “Let’s get you set up.”

Banner moved over to her to quietly discuss what they would do first. Bucky started to instinctively tune them out. It was a behavior he’d used to employ during anything medical with HYDRA, zoning out while not in the presence of anyone with the authority to give him mission orders. 

When he checked in with Loki, he started thinking about a mouse running in frantic circles in a closed metal box.

\----------

Loki had wondered if Thor would interject at any point in his story, but his brother remained silent. The words to it were forced through Loki’s lips, like they were being spoken by someone else. It was childish, and mad, and borne of the conflict that was beginning to make Loki feel like he would burst if he attempted to contain it. While he spoke he stopped being able to quite tell what was him, what was Bucky, and what was the chemical interference pulling Bucky down. But he also could not quite remember any good reasons to stop.

He described a tormented mouse that could not break free of its box. That was helpless as it was from time to time plucked free by giant hands that pinned and tortured it.

“At times the mouse would despair in the dark, and in fleeting moments would imagine that someone searched for it. It waited, and it waited, unable to recall precisely why.”

He could feel Thor’s gaze, and thought he could smell the sharp hints of ozone on the air. He did not know if it was in the room or he simply imagined it from the strength of the chaos filtering through his head, but he was not going to check. 

The words continued on. Though his emotions remained a confused jumble, Loki was not allowing them to interfere with his voice. “I would put forth a query for this...situation,” he said, knowing how mad he was continuing to sound. “Do you think the mouse was right, to have such hopes? Or should it have simply accepted the box?”

He would still not look up.

It was several seconds before Thor finally spoke. “Loki, there is nothing to fear.”

Where before Loki had quietly reveled in Thor’s attentions, now something ugly began to bloom, sharp and vicious enough that it almost stole his breath. They were just simple words. But they planted themselves in his mind, looping themselves around, mixing with the odd viciousness that was simmering deeply inside him. He waited, but with each subsequent pass he found the sting of them refused to fade.

Nothing to fear? 

_Nothing to fear?_

\----------

They didn’t touch Bucky with their bare hands. Instead there were metal devices handled with waterproof winter gloves that took measurements as they applied gentle palpitating pressure. Abdomen, lymph nodes, heart, joints.

They frequently checked if he was comfortable with their progress. He responded in monosyllables when it was required. 

“It looks like there are first degree burns on your epidermis,” Banner noted. “Is this from something in the compound?”

“No,” Bucky said. “It’s from shapeshifting.”

Banner’s jaw dropped a little. “It’s from...what?”

Doctor Cho looked him over, exhibiting none of the same surprise. “Stark said that was how he drew blood for Loki’s transfusion.” She looked Bucky in the eyes. “It’s uncomfortable for you to perform.”

Bucky nodded, letting her gaze hold his. “Do you want me to do it?”

She blinked rapidly, looking taken aback. “Uh, yes, if it’s…_only_ if you’re comfortable with it.” Despite her words, her eyes were now beaming strongly with curiosity.

Bucky swallowed, and clenched his hands. As drugged up as he was, starting the change felt like trying to reach up and grip a string that was thrashing out of reach. It slipped through his fingers repeatedly before he finally managed to catch it.

He watched his hands. As one changed, going pale, he remembered staring at them just like this before using his new metal limb to lash out at the nearest HYDRA doctor. The satisfying sound of his skull cracking against the wall echoed through his mind, as did a heaping of rage. 

When he leaned back into Loki, that feeling got worse.

Loki wasn’t thinking about the mouse anymore.

\----------

Loki envisioned himself pinned upon a table, his screams ignored. 

He saw Thor, standing over him as he was torn apart. His hand on Loki’s cheek, telling him there was _nothing to fear._ Nothing to fear, while his innards were ripped from him. Nothing to fear, while he tore the flesh of his fingers to the bone trying to escape the metal cell that brought forth the lightning to sear his nerves.

Nothing to fear.

It had begun with Bucky, and continued with Fury, and now some version of the words were coursing through each of the Avengers in turn. 

_“I told you, the Avengers don’t do things like that.”_

They had not _meant_ to consign Loki to years of torture. They’d had _no knowledge_ of his suffering. 

And now they spoke to him as if he was some naive child, to still be wary of them. If it had been Romanoff, he would have suspected lies and manipulation. But Rogers and Thor held no such gifts or inclinations. They only spoke what they believed was true. 

Loki preferred to think of them as having the strength he expected. For now they were forcing Loki to acknowledge _both_ the fact that they had been instrumental in his complete defeat, and had still _lost_ him to humans who had managed to keep his existence hidden from even their might. And now he was willingly seeking their help and protection from an even greater threat?

His chest ached. The world was going grey. Bucky was trying to urgently press into his mind in confusion.

_What did you do,_ Loki thought at his past self. _What would you do now, in my place? I can feel your echoes._ His anger redirected inward, threatening to spiral into an abyss. _Is this the future you hoped for? Is this the same indignancy, the same rage that you would feel? Thor does not understand. What would you do to him for that?_

_What has your rage ever brought you, save to emphasize the magnitude of your own monstrosity and weaknesses?_

There were strong hands on him, gripping into the thin fabric of his shirt so tightly that it was in danger of tearing. He was panting through clenched teeth, his cheeks wet. 

“_Loki._”

The world remained blurred from his own tears. The viciousness in his chest refused to untangle.

\----------

Something was wrong. For one wild, terrifying moment, Bucky thought the drugs had completely worn off. 

Banner was approaching him with another device, intending to press it against his skin.

“You need to not touch me,” Bucky said, surprised at the steadiness of his own voice.

Banner didn’t even try to get clarification. He quickly backed up, hands slightly raised with palms out, the tool he’d been using still in his grasp. Doctor Cho, likewise, looked up from one of the machines she was working with and carefully moved herself on the opposite end of the room.

The added space made Bucky feel like he could think, for all of half a second. 

There was something howling in his head like a blizzard. Something bad. 

He remembered beating Steve on the Helicarrier, painting his face with blood and freezing his skin. 

“Sergeant Barnes, are you okay? What do you need us to do?”

“I don’t think it’s me,” Bucky said, distractedly, then belatedly realized he probably _shouldn’t_ say that, and clamped his mouth shut.

His body stayed where it was, sitting on the stool. It wasn’t responding with any dramatic signs of stress - no muscles tightening in readiness to fight, no open trembling or panting. But his head was a complete clusterfuck of emotions and words and urges. When he tried to focus through them, he could barely think his own thoughts through the wave.

Then came the words, vicious and booming, like a loudspeaker implanted in his skull.

_You fucker! I’ll rip your spine out!_

He scowled. “What…?”

Stark’s voice raised from the next room, along with a series of mechanical clacks. “Bruce, we’ve got a Code Cap. There’s a hostile on the property. I’m heading out to engage - stand by for your invite.”

\----------

The scepter’s point was angled towards Thor’s neck. Loki’s hand about the staff was white-knuckled as his mind spoke of the satisfaction of savagery and blood.

Thor was ignoring the danger of it in favor of holding Loki, and so made himself foolishly vulnerable.

Loki stared back into that stormy gaze and bared his teeth. “You are wrong, Thor,” he said, chest heaving. “I have a great many things to fear.”

“Not here,” Thor insisted, as immovable as his old cell’s walls. 

Loki laughed, straining his still-aching injuries. “They took me. Did you try to stop it?”

“Of course I did!”

“Did you.” He let the scepter press into Thor’s flesh with the promise of immediate violence. “_Did you?_”

Thor did not call his hammer to beat him down. “I did not realize the danger at first,” Thor said, voice severe as his eyebrows pinched. “After your capture, father called me back to Asgard. You were so strong - I thought you would have been _fine_ \- and you didn’t seem to care for _anything_ anymore, least of all me.”

“You were angry,” Loki said, his throat tight. “So you left me.”

Thor jerked at him, his breaths hot on Loki’s face. “You told me to leave you at every chance you could! As soon as I found out what had happened, I sought out and tore apart every HYDRA base I could looking for your whereabouts.”

The scepter’s point pressed deeper, breaking the first layers of Thor’s flesh and bringing blood to bloom around it. Thor’s rage grew brighter, his hand coming up to grasp harshly about Loki’s neck in warning.

Loki felt a laugh bubble up against the pressure half-choking him. He gasped in air. “So even when you _tried_, you failed in finding me.” His mind was shrieking that he was insane. At the same time, his mind was shrieking that this was _not enough._ “And yet you remain confident in your capabilities of protection. What, precisely, will make the next time any different?”

Thor removed his grip from Loki’s neck and instead grasped his hand where it was clenched white-knuckled about the scepter’s staff. He squeezed at it tightly. “The difference, brother, is that next time you will be standing _with_ me.”

Loki went still, panting between his teeth.

He stared into Thor’s eyes, and then at the red splash of color that painted his neck.

What was he doing?

What had he _done?_

_You fucker. I’ll rip your spine out!_

The words unbalanced him as they blared in his mind. Loki’s hold on the scepter slackened in shock, still held in Thor’s firm grip.

He shoved his brother roughly away and reached for Bucky, afraid that he had missed the worst. He found him not in the midst of an attack, but still sitting unmoving on a stool. The doctors were standing anxiously at the far ends of the room, unharmed.

_It’s not me,_ Bucky communicated. He was now actively trying to fight through the drugged haze on his mind, with little success. He sounded plaintive through their link, his thoughts laden with heavy confusion. _I think Steve’s in trouble. Do you know what’s happening?_

_I sense nothing here,_ Loki said, but before he even finished the thought his breath caught in realization.

The undercurrent. The violence stirring beneath their thoughts. Loki had spent so much time trying to force it away and not allow it to overcome him that he had not realized it might be more than a simple response to either the stress or the drugs.

Now he intentionally sought the source of it through the muck that was Bucky’s slow thoughts.

He found it, the thread of flaring anger. He braced himself and reached out.

The rejection that followed was so fierce it sent a migraine flaring through his head, sparking behind his eyes. He gasped, nearly collapsing to the bed as Thor held him up and spoke urgently. Grinding his teeth against his roiling stomach, he went back in, pressing in full force with the scepter to attempt to locate it once more.

It was gone.

Loki searched fruitlessly in cold horror, but there was no remaining trace. The undercurrent was no more. Vanished.

Not Loki. Not Bucky. Not the drugs.

Someone else. 

A third mind.


	10. Chapter 10

Bucky was concentrating hard on keeping his link with Loki as tight as possible when the pain and disorientation hit.

It was like someone was inside his skull and trying to break out with a flaming jackhammer. He nearly fell from his seat, overextending himself to brace against the closest counter. Equipment went flying into the wall while Doctor Cho and Banner reacted audibly in alarm. 

Bucky panted, gripping into metal so hard that it creaked and bent, and then Loki’s panicked realization was blaring out through their link.

_A third mind._

_No,_ Bucky thought in intense denial. He swallowed roughly, now nauseous in addition to foggy-headed. Banner and Cho were trying to get his attention and check his comfort levels but he ignored them. _We looked. There weren’t any others. There weren’t even any _records.

And there _hadn’t_ been. They’d checked for the possibility specifically and thoroughly.

All the other subjects had died before HYDRA had gotten Loki’s serum to the point where they were sure Bucky’s already enhanced body would withstand the transformation.

A shimmer formed in the air in front of him. Loki came into being within it, dressed in his leather armor and holding the Tesseract in hand, his scarred eyes wide. He didn’t waste a second before he pressed the cube against Bucky.

The lab disappeared in a flash of blue and the world reformed as the forest that bordered the Avengers facility. The air was crisp and cool, making Bucky all the more aware his vest was still sitting in the lab.

Loki stored the Tesseract and put his hand against Bucky’s forehead, sending a vicious burning sensation searing through his blood. He lashed out instinctively, punching Loki hard enough to send him stumbling back.

Bucky’s skin twitched as he blinked in confusion; the foggy feeling in his head and limbs was gone. The drugs had been purged from his system and his emotions were back in full force. He stared forward in lingering shock, suddenly very aware of how his flesh felt like someone else’s. He looked down and realized he was still in his approximately human form. He shuddered, and shifted back to blue.

Loki had steadied himself, a new bruise marking his cheek and his spine sending fresh signals of pain. “Calm yourself,” he said, like he wasn’t freaking out just as badly about the situation.

“That was what the damn drugs were for,” Bucky hissed, already turning his head to search through the trees. Nothing to the north, but he could hear signs of the Avengers in the area performing their own searches. “What the fuck _was_ that?”

“I do not know,” Loki responded, body tense, his pain and fear a background noise as he looked for the fight. The scepter’s gem glowed as he kept up a constant mental search for any signs of what they’d felt before - the infiltrator in their heads. “They denied my connection. Violently. And now it’s as if they’ve simply disappeared.”

“Were they doing it on purpose?”

“I do not know,” Loki repeated, shaking his head. “And I hate that I do not know.”

There was a flash of gold and red descending in the distance, about half a mile down the road that bisected the meticulously maintained lawn. Bucky moved a few steps out of the trees and saw the Iron Man suit as it landed in a crouch, hand extending above a body on the ground. 

“Steve,” he breathed, then bolted towards them.

“It’s faster to use the Tesseract!” Loki shouted.

“Just stay there and focus on the scepter!” Bucky called back. As he raced across the property he could see Wilson still doing rounds in the air, but nothing of whatever had come and launched its attack.

Except for the patches of ice visible on the ground as he neared Stark. _Shit. Shit shit shit._

Stark saw him coming, and quickly raised an armored hand. “Hang back, soldier,” he ordered in a firm voice. 

Bucky skidded to a halt, aware of the fact that besides the arc reactor beams, Stark housed anti-tank missile launchers in his suit.

A sigh sounded behind the mask, before it retracted from Stark’s face. “That wasn’t a threat, Barnes. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to come over here and add snow on top of a blizzard.”

Bucky still kept himself back, just in case, eyes moving to Steve’s body. “What the hell happened?”

Stark jerked his head in indication. “See for yourself.”

Bucky stepped closer - Steve was unconscious on his back on the ground, arms bent upwards like he was trying to push off an invisible force. His lips were blue. Patches of white dusted over his hair, and there was a layer of frost coating his neck. 

No. It was coating his _entire body._

Bucky felt his own frost begin to brim on his skin. _Fuck - Loki - Steve’s frozen._

Loki’s shock stirred brightly. _He’s what?_

“He’s stable,” Stark said quickly. “But he needs thawing. Any info you’d like to share with the class?”

“It wasn’t me,” Bucky said, wondering if it was better if he just ran now.

“Yeah, I _know_ that,” Stark said, sounding irritated. “I was one room away from you for most of the morning, if you recall, my first thought actually _wasn’t_ that you ran out here half-naked to beat the shit out of your old bud. I’m asking if you have any idea _who_ would have done it.”

“No,” Bucky answered, throat tight. There’d been - anger. An overwhelming feel for violence that had been directed at Steve specifically. The only identifying features of someone Bucky couldn’t identify.

But Bucky couldn’t let anyone _know_ that he knew even that much, because then they would wonder _how_ he knew it.

And Steve...

Stark sighed and shook his head. “Be honest with me - what happens if I pick him up?”

“To you or to him,” Bucky asked, still intermittently scanning their surroundings.

“That’s promising,” Stark muttered. He gestured with both hands, beckoning Bucky closer. “Okay, Bumble, I’ve changed my mind - you’re on Cap-moving duty. Get him inside, there’ll be a stretcher waiting.” He raised his voice, looking in the direction of the trees where Loki had stayed back. “And if anyone else has anything useful to share, now would be the time.”

A flash, and Loki was standing beside them, breathing heavily as his body protested from the continued strain of zipping himself around. Bucky moved forward to grasp Steve, trying to ignore the similarities in the way he looked now to the way he had after their fight on the Helicarrier, and still unable to help noting that parts of him seemed a hell of a lot worse off.

Stable, Stark had said. He was stable. Bucky held back the cold that wanted to blast from his skin as his mind churned.

“Who attacked him,” Loki demanded, his aches clamoring in his body.

“Didn’t see it,” Stark said. “He was already down by the time I got here.”

Loki met Bucky’s eyes, fingers curling against the Tesseract. “Then I suppose I must search myself.” He vanished.

Stark jerked in surprise, twisting his head. Bucky would have been just as stressed with Loki’s disappearance if he wasn’t connected to his mind and knew he was just intending on looking around the land surrounding the compound. Or if it wasn’t steadily feeling more and more like all his reserves for anxiety were being taken up by Steve’s stiff form in his arms.

“Wilson,” Stark said, tracking the repeated blue glows that flashed in and out of existence in the distance. “Loki’s volunteering to be a team player. I think. Try to avoid friendly fire.” He looked at Bucky, then raised his eyebrow. “What are you waiting for? Get him to Doctor Cho.”

\-----------

Loki teleported around the expanse of the compound’s property with all the success of a blind man searching for a needle in a pitch black room. The tang of Bucky’s simmering panic was a constant presence, but the rage driving Loki now was purely his own, and a substantial portion of it was self-directed. 

_Foolish,_ he thought, before teleporting himself another several hundred yards. Foolish of him to believe that the repercussions of HYDRA’s long and patient delving of his body would lead to nothing more than an unexpected ally in the wake of their downfall. It mattered not that there had been no trail to point to such a result - he knew HYDRA was thorough in covering their secrets. They’d hidden _him,_ after all, efficiently keeping his location and the reality of his handling from the very organization they had nestled themselves within. They’d hidden Bucky’s existence for decades longer.

Within the trees the land mostly looked the same. There was a river bordering the compound but he could see no signs that anyone would have crossed it. The Falcon soared overhead and Loki could sense that the other Avengers were on the ground. Thor had even joined them; his voice drew Loki’s attention, and if there _were_ any auditory signals from the one he sought it was likely they were becoming lost in his brother’s shouts.

He cursed his poor senses and drew deeper upon the scepter to aid in his continued search. His previous concerns of reining himself in around the Avengers had been completely overtaken in his wild knowledge that he had to find the culprit of those violent thoughts before they managed to escape.

His hopes for such an outcome were quickly growing dim.

He’d come to the edge of the river for a fifth time, and before he could use the Tesseract to move again, his knees hit the rocky shore and he was forced to hold his hands out to brace himself. His entire body was trembling, the cube pressed into the ground beneath his hand, the scepter the only thing keeping him moderately upright. 

Air rushed over him as Thor came to a firm landing at his side. “Loki,” he said, reaching down to grasp sharply at Loki’s arm. “Stop running and listen to me.”

“I was not running,” Loki said, allowing Thor to pull him to his feet. His spine ached viciously as he straightened. “I was hunting.”

Thor didn’t release his hold, as if he feared Loki was going to teleport away again. “Hunting _what?_”

Loki stared at Thor, all too aware of the wound that yet marked his brother’s neck. It had since sealed over, and would be gone within the hour, but the blood that had escaped it still stained Thor’s skin. The thought that Loki would need to answer for that was a fearful resignation held beneath this newest priority. “Did you see anything while you were in the air?”

“No, you know something,” Thor said, his hammer raised to point to Loki’s chest. Loki went carefully still, his eyes drawn to his brother’s weapon, remembering how it had crushed his lungs when he’d first arrived at the compound. “Now answer me - what is going on?”

Loki felt a sharp stab in his stomach, threatening to crawl upwards into his throat. “What else? They took my _blood_, Thor. They twisted it for their own uses. Every part of me, carved and stolen.” And in that moment he remembered it so vividly that his chest seized, and he had to struggle to keep breathing. “And then they - _tested it_. They killed their subjects to ensure the safety of their ultimate goal in transforming their Winter Soldier. But now someone has attacked, and they used the ice of a Frost Giant. What assumptions might be made from that?”

Thor, blessedly, stopped accusing Loki, though he would have been well within his rights to strike him down after what had happened. But his jaw was yet set in anger, and his voice held a dark undercurrent. “I saw nothing of them.”

Loki somehow managed to swallow through his tight throat. “Then I’d imagine they made their getaway.”

Finally, Thor released him, pacing away, his eyes searching as his cape billowed behind him. “They could not have escaped without our notice. They must still be here.”

“Yes,” Loki said, as weariness seeped more deeply into his bones. “Because no other useful skills have been shown to develop from those changed by my blood.” He shook his head, bitterness completely overtaking his futile drive, though his pounding heart seemed less able to let it go. “My guess is that if they seek to not be found, we will have great difficulty finding them.” 

Except he knew, with the rage that had filled his mind, the _intent_, that whoever had caused the attack had been deeply motivated. It could possibly draw them back, if they were unstable enough. They had not acted in ignorance of the significance of this place.

Loki was certain that killing them was of the utmost importance. If nothing else, to soothe what he could of the tangle of wire that constricted his lungs. 

That wire grew to almost unbearable levels as he caught the first hints of the scent of ozone from Thor. It was getting even harder for Loki to see as the shadows of storm clouds brewed overhead. 

“Where would they have come from?” Thor asked, as if Loki could give him that answer. “What enemy would challenge us only to flee like a coward?”

Loki almost laughed in shock at the realization that Thor was giving him the benefit of the doubt, now when he far from deserved it. “All I know of HYDRA is what I ripped from their strongholds after my escape. They had little interest in sharing the particulars of their plans with their experimental subject...besides their incredible desire to tear me apart.”

Thor stepped back towards him, and the air _rumbled_. Somehow, Loki managed not to collapse to his knees in fright, recklessly risking the chance that such ire was still not directed his way. 

“We will find them,” Thor promised, confirming Loki’s wild hope. “And they will dearly regret this attack.”

Loki took in a breath, shuddering so hard in relief he thought he would lose his footing. He still could not quite look at Thor, feeling as if he did his most recent transgressions would be painted on his face. He’d been so determined to not give them a reason to think him a danger - and now, despite his best efforts, reasons were building all the same, threatening to bring the secret he and Bucky had been harboring to light.

He was eager to follow through on the truth of Thor’s words, if only to prevent that.

There was a rustle above, and Sam Wilson came down through the trees, landing with ease despite the length of his wings. They retracted as he stared at Thor through red-lensed goggles. “What’ve we got?”

“Not enough,” Thor said, his voice filled with frustration. “Loki believes there is another survivor of HYDRA’s serum. They may have the ability to shield themselves from sight.”

Wilson nodded sharply. “Sounds about right. I’ve got Redwing doing sweeps. Barnes and Stark took Cap in - it looks bad, but word is they think he’ll pull through. I’m going to do a few more rounds, see if there’s any sign of a trail farther out.”

“I will join you,” Thor said. He looked at Loki, likely taking in the way his legs were barely supporting him. “You should return to your bed,” he said, the words more of an order than a suggestion. 

Loki thought of the distance he would need to cross to obey that instruction, and how unwilling his body would be for any additional exertion. He felt like an open wound, inside and out. “I am fine,” he said, straightening his screaming back to better present that illusion.

“You said there was no chance they are still here,” Thor said.

Loki kept his gaze down. “I said that I assumed they were not.”

“And you think I would not be a match for them were they to show themselves?”

Loki froze, that tightening in his chest threatening to steal his breath again.

Sam Wilson gazed between him and Thor, shifting awkwardly. 

Loki’s voice was faint even to his ears. “Your affirmation of the strength in togetherness had a rather short life.”

“And your fear of being taken from my hands seems to have dissipated,” Thor shot back.

“Why would I fear a single Frost Giant?”

“Who was it that I just found panicking at the river’s edge?”

Truly, it was a crime that the world didn’t deign to pause when Loki wished it to. He let his eyes briefly flutter shut. “It was mine,” he said through gritted teeth. “They tore it from me. I have a considerable stake in wishing it to not run rampant.”

Silence fell. 

Thor’s hand came back to his shoulder, heavy and firm. 

Loki tensed, frowning. When he opened his eyes his brother was gazing into them. “We will find them,” Thor said. “This is not any kind of grand threat.”

“Your friend was severely beaten and frozen solid.”

“He’s been through that once or twice,” Thor said, but his optimism sounded strained.

“Thor’s right,” Wilson said, drawing Loki’s attention. “Cap’s real good at pulling through. He’ll be up in no time, wanting to give as bad as he got. Whoever did this isn’t going to get away with it.”

They already had, Loki thought, and felt Bucky send a vicious echo of those same words to him through their link.

\----------

Back in the lab, Bucky moved Steve’s body carefully from the stretcher and onto the table with the halo. He couldn’t stop from staring at the way Steve’s hands raised above his body, fingers clawed in useless defense. Doctor Cho and Stark and Banner were discussing how to best proceed with defrosting his body, but there were complications. It wasn’t just the ice they had to worry about, but the injuries beneath it. The ones they were most concerned about were around Steve’s neck - like whoever had attacked had tried to choke him to death.

The servomechanisms in Bucky’s arm were working in overdrive as he flexed his hand. He gave Loki a mental nudge. _Anything?_

Loki’s response was resigned. _No. They are gone._

Bucky felt like a dam ready to burst, but now he had a target for that feeling. _So when are we going after them?_

Irritation formed through their link. _I would not know the first place to look and neither do you. We cannot simply undo all of our progress here. The Avengers are not helpless._

_They almost killed Steve._

_They will be at a greater disadvantage now that their existence has been revealed._

_That’s putting it a little strongly. We didn’t even see them!_

_Believe me, I would enjoy nothing more than to quickly make certain that they never breathe again. But we raided base after base after base. If we did not find them before now…_

Bucky stared at the wall of glass bordering the lab, and thought about how appealing it would be to break it. To break all of them. They were just useless illusions of walls.

He’d thought it had been bad before, giving themselves over while knowing that the last traces of HYDRA were still out there, waiting to be weeded out. This made it worse. 

“Sergeant Barnes?”

He turned. Doctor Cho approached him cautiously, wearing thick gloves and goggles. “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the lab. We need the room’s temperature to remain as stable as possible.” 

He looked back to Steve, stiff and supine on the table. Doctor Banner and Stark were placing lamp-like devices around him in an equidistant pattern.

He jerked his head in a nod, taking the few steps needed to get him outside. A panel came down after him, sealing off the room. 

The tint from before had been removed from the glass, so he could still watch them as they worked, bile building in the back of his throat. _Tonight,_ he sent to Loki. _When the others think we’re asleep._

_No,_ Loki shot back firmly. _Leaving harbors far too much risk._

_They won’t know what they’re dealing with._

_They excel at such challenges. Well, most of the time._

Bucky’s anger rolled over him like a wave, bringing a spike of ice pulsing from his flesh hand. He thought that Loki was lucky he wasn’t physically present. _That’s not funny._

Loki didn’t apologize, but the words he sent to Bucky were contrite. _He’s experienced this before. And they told you he would survive._

Bucky wouldn’t be reassured. _You survived what happened to you, too. There’s a lot of damage in between._

_Now is not the time to prove ourselves unwilling to engage in teamwork._

Loki was using the word teamwork, but what he really meant was _follow orders._ As if Bucky hadn’t spent most of his waking moments of the last seventy years following orders. 

But someone had tried to kill Steve. They’d almost succeeded. And the longer he waited…

He’d already turned and taken a step when Loki’s alarm shot through his mind. _Do not leave,_ Loki thought at him. _Please._

It was the _please_ that did it. Bucky blinked rapidly, reluctantly loosening his conviction on the plans of escape that had been hurriedly forming in his mind. When he turned back to the lab he saw that frost had spread in a splintering pattern on the glass, blocking his view of Steve.

_”I can want things without being stupid enough to jump into them without a second thought,”_ he’d told Loki at the start of their stay here.

He’d thought it was true then. Now he wondered just how deep he’d fallen in without noticing.

Sensing him back down, Loki’s relief pulsed through the line. _You will have your vengeance, one way or another._

_You don’t know that,_ Bucky thought, and though his skin was covered in icicles his insides felt molten with fury. _And if there was one we didn’t know about, what if there were others?_

_You know the workings of your old masters. If there were others, the likelihood that they would have broken free from control to run so brazenly into the stronghold of the greatest of HYDRA’s enemies alone would be practically nonexistent._

That was probably true. The only reason Bucky had managed to get out at all was the timing of their collapse with Steve’s invocation of their friendship stirring his memories to life. 

That still didn’t change what had happened that morning from anything less than agonizing reality. 

_Are you back in your room with Thor?_

_Yes. Doubtless I will be questioned soon._ There was a thread of dread beneath that thought for Loki, but also expectation and the wish to get it over with. _I am guessing you are not going to leave that lab until Captain Rogers is awake and well._

_No,_ Bucky said, and he wasn’t thinking of escape now but there was something else, another idea that was beginning to take root the longer he stared and imagined what would have happened if Steve couldn’t survive being frozen. _Just keep the scepter out. And don’t you even dare mention the mind link._

_I had not planned on it._

Loki drew back from him, leaving him standing alone.

The heating devices were working on Steve’s body. A huge monitor tracked the process, and the machines automatically assessed and adjusted to keep the thawing even and quick.

Bucky could wait. When Steve woke up, maybe they’d know more. 

If he woke up.

This wasn’t a situation where Bucky could just open his veins to speed the healing along if something went wrong once the ice stopped stabilizing the injuries. He couldn’t do anything about Steve’s condition but stay back and stay out and try not to make it worse. He couldn’t go out and deal with the cause directly himself yet, either.

There was something else he could offer, though. If he wanted to make absolutely certain that whoever had attacked had as little chance as possible at succeeding again. 

He could open himself up. Let them take every scan and sample that they wanted, in hopes that something useful could be taken from them. Some defense crafted, or a method of tracking what they didn’t understand yet. A way to see what didn’t want to be seen, even before he knew quite how to use the abilities himself.

He wanted to run. He wanted to go and disappear and empty a whole goddamn clip into the skull of whoever had done this. Or even just convince himself that it was too soon to be deciding anything one way or the other.

But the thread to Loki had been strong enough to convince him to stay before. Now there were more of them, from different sources. And they were turning into chains. 

An echo of Loki’s words rang in his head. _”Even before you knew your own self, you _ached_ for the very same companionship you relentlessly fled from.”_

He clenched his fist, shattering the ice coating his forearm. The pieces of it scattered across the ground like broken glass.


End file.
